


Dark Possession

by Rxel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark!Harry, Dom Harry Potter, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, M/M, Possessive Harry, Possessiveness, Psychopath!Harry, Sadistic!Harry, Sub Tom Riddle
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-21 21:23:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 23,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22303858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rxel/pseuds/Rxel
Summary: Amortentia, the strongest love potion in the world.It is said that children conceived under the effects of Amortentia are unable to feel love, but what wasn't known was that the degree of which it affected the child conceived depended on the amount of Amortentia administered over a given period of time to the party involved.It was a little known fact that one James Potter started dousing his love with Amortentia when he was so sure that his love would never bear fruit, having been rebuffed time and time again.It was an even less known fact that one Lily Evans started dousing James Potter with Amortentia before he even knew she existed.Even when the two joined in marriage, and produced a child, they never stopped administering the deadly love potion to their partner up until the very end.Harry J. Potter was the result of their shared infatuation, and his capacity for love was much, much lower than usual. So low, in fact, that when he started developing a little obsession of his own, he swore to obtain it at any cost...
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 243
Kudos: 2056
Collections: Dark Liege Potter, Started stories, The Harry Potters





	1. Chapter 1

The house was quiet. Very quiet, in fact.

So quiet that you may have thought that the inhabitants of the home had already left, but that wasn’t the case.

In the quaint little house of Number Four Privet Drive, the members of the Dursley family were as quiet as a mouse.

With every sound that didn’t come from themselves, they trembled like mice in the presence of a cat, flinching from the uncertainty.

So, when the hoot of an owl sounded, the three Dursleys flinched like they’d been struck.

Rather than looking at the place where the sound came from, they looked towards the stairs that led to the second floor instead, as if afraid of what – or who might come down.

They cautiously relaxed when nothing happened, and the three family members continued their breakfast in total silence.

Even when the man, Vernon Dursley, flipped the newspaper, he took care not to crinkle the papers in terror that he might make too loud a noise.

Petunia Dursley skilfully flipped the bacon on the frying pan, no sound heard from years of practice. The heat was set on low. Though the bacon wouldn’t be crispy that way, it was better than… than… well.

Dudley Dursley very cautiously opened the front door, but not before he oiled the hinges, going out to collect the mail.

The boy’s brows furrowed when he found a strange-looking envelope on the top of the pile.

But then, when he read the name addressed on it, his eyes almost popped out in fear. He had to stop himself from throwing the mail up in the air.

His heart was pounding loudly in his chest, almost drowning out the sound of everything else.

Written on the envelope was:

“Mr. H Potter, Master Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

The envelope was a funny thing. Dudley had never seen anything like it, but the scarily accurate detail on it terrified him more than anything.

Did this mean that someone knew about the situation in their home?

Why else would they be addressing… _him_ like that?

Before he could dally further, Dudley hurriedly scurried back into the house, very carefully shutting the front door with no sound.

Seeing their son’s return, the Dursley parents made a questioning gesture towards Dudley, wondering why he’d taken so long.

Dudley shakily handed over the strange envelope that looked like _parchment_ of all things over to his mother.

The moment Petunia got her hands on it, her face drained of all colour, and she audibly gasped, causing both males to stare at her with wide eyes.

Petunia slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized what she’d done, but the damage was already done. She’d made a noise.

The members of the Dursley family waited with pounding hearts, their eyes fearfully looking at the stairs, and they only slowly calmed down when a figure didn’t appear on the staircase.

It was only when five minutes passed that they dared to breathe normally again.

It was only then that Petunia felt a blossom of hope bloom in her chest. Maybe, just maybe, if she let the other _frea_ \- no, no, if she let the other wizards know about what was happening in her home, they may be able to get rid of that _terror_ that caused such stark fear in her house.

Just as she was about to open it, she heard a voice that froze her in her tracks. “What are you doing, Aunt Petunia?”

The voice was deceptively sweet. There were the right intonations, and it would have sounded innocent on any other child, but it struck terror in all three of the Dursleys.

It would have been sweet. But not on this devil.

Petunia shakily handed the letter to the boy.

They never ever heard him move around, and if they didn’t know better, if they hadn’t watched him grow up under their nose, they may have even thought that he wasn’t human.

Petunia watched as the boy curiously opened the letter, and she felt as if every inch of her hope had instantly slid away.

Harry took the letter from his relative’s hands, casually opening the seal. The smile that spread on his face made all three of the Dursleys shudder yet again.

None of them dared to question him.

Perhaps… if he went, he would leave them alone. The thought of it alone was enough to make Petunia hopeful again. She knew that it was boarding school. She only hoped that the boy would not refuse to go.

Harry’s eyes glittered with a rare interest. It wasn’t just any day that something caught his eye.

So, there was actually a specialized school for studying magic. How interesting.

Of course, he would opt to go there instead of choosing to stay in this utterly boring world, but how could he let his dear relatives off so easily?

“Perhaps it would be better for me not to go instead,” Harry mused, and he was amused when he saw that Petunia almost seemed to wilt, just like her namesake.

Dudley and Vernon, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on. The only thing they knew was that it wasn’t anything good from Petunia’s reactions.

Petunia wanted to scream and cry, and she wanted to convince the boy to go, if only to spare them, but she knew better than to do that.

It was a trap that the _terror_ used against them, and more than once. It wasn’t until they realized that he liked to speak using rhetorical questions, and that they shouldn’t answer, that he finally left them alone.

Harry’s lips curled into a smirk that should have looked rather out of place on his face, but it was anything but. He’d wondered if the emotional shock to his dear aunt would have caused her to break the rules, but alas it looked like she’d grown too smart for that.

No matter.

Her emotional reaction was rather telling. Just what had his _dear_ aunt been hiding from him over the years, hmm?

‘He’s the devil.’ That was the only thing that Petunia could think of. He was human, but… he really wasn’t at all, at the same time.

“Drive me there, _dearest_ aunt,” Harry said so genially that anyone else would have been tricked.

Petunia quickly made her way out of the door, almost as if the devil himself was chasing her, and the two males made themselves scarce, not even giving the poor woman a second glance.

Harry let himself into the back seat, tempering down the smirk that had been on his face.

He caught his aunt’s eye in the mirror, and she shuddered at the sheer unfeelingness in his eyes.

She stepped on the gas paddle harder.


	2. Chapter 2

Blending into the wizarding world was surprisingly easy.

As much as he hated the loudness and bustling bar, it was filled with helpful people who were very information and ever so happy to share information with him.

It was disgraceful that they were already drunk in the morning, but drunks made for good information, so it wasn’t like Harry was complaining.

Even if he did want to do terrible things to them at daring to put their hands on his body. He never realized how annoying people’s habits of reaching over to pat someone was.

Harry expected better from fully-grown adults who had supposedly been accustomed to magic, but it was almost as if they were wilfully blind.

He had an even easier time smiling and charming his way through the supposed adults of the wizarding world.

Whenever someone asked why he was wandering alone, a little smile and wide eyes was enough to make them melt.

It was laughably easy.

He didn’t do anything except mingle around and make friends, but he already gained so much ‘common sense’ to these witches and wizards. He felt like he could act properly now, and it was probably time to move on.

Facing the sad goodbyes and calls of well-wishes from the various ‘friends’ he made in the bar, Harry waved goodbye at them, smiling.

Heading to Gringotts, Harry nodded politely at the goblins that he saw. He wasn’t so blind as to miss the flash of surprise in their eyes.

He could use this.

The place dripped in so much opulence that Harry secretly wondered if it was a very direct ‘fuck you’ to the magical world. If it wasn’t, then they were definitely compensating for something.

Yet, this place still remained the most trusted bank in the wizarding world.

Harry already noticed that the witches and wizards that he met were not the smartest, but it was beyond stupid if they couldn’t see what the goblins were doing when even an _eleven_ -year-old was able to.

He took the time in line to take in the atmosphere as well as the mannerisms of the various wizards and witches that frequented the place.

Those that carried themselves differently were the ones that he wanted.

The purebloods.

Smirking, Harry slid himself behind a man with long, platinum blond hair. As he spoke with the teller, the young wizard noted his mannerisms and gestures.

While he wouldn’t be using it _here_ , it was useful to learn.

There was another thing that he realized. Every witch and wizard seemed to have their own kind of magic.

There were those that gave off faint lights, as well as those that looked relatively darker.

He couldn’t make an accurate analysis with the limited information he had right now, but the man in front of him had a much darker colour to his pretty magic than anyone he’s seen so far.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry reached out with a little bit of his magic, stroking the man’s.

He didn’t know why he did that, exactly, just that his magic told him to do so.

The moment Harry’s magic came into contact with the wizards, the dark sheen that was the other man’s magic shuddered visibly.

Lucius Malfoy was in the middle of his discussion with the goblin when a wave of pleasure crashed over him. It felt like something had stroked his magic, and the deliciously and dangerously dark feeling almost made him gasp out loud.

The pureblood managed to keep himself from doing anything untoward, his fingers falling to grip the desk. His knuckles were white, and his body trembled just the faintest amount.

The blond inwardly thanked every etiquette lesson that his father had made him go through.

He would have been rendered a fool had he not had such tight control over his mask.

More than that, what just happened?

Whose magic had that been?

Lucius turned around to look, but there was hardly anyone prominent in the room.

A bunch of Light wizards, mudbloods and a small child that looked about his son’s age. Hardly anyone who could have produced such a reaction in him.

He almost thought that his lord had returned, but the feeling that magic gave him was that much more intense, that much darker.

It called out to him and made his blood sing.

Defeated, Lucius turned back to the goblin who was trying to hide its affront at being ignored. Lucius sneered, continuing to talk.

Harry, who had joined another line, smirked quietly to himself when he saw the extreme reaction that he managed to produce in the man.

For a supposed pureblood like that man, being able to make his mask almost crack and shatter into proverbial pieces felt entirely too sweet.

It made him interested, and it made him want to keep provoking him, but he held back. Now was not the time.

He didn’t know how much power he had in this place yet, so the man was luckily spared. For now.

By the time Harry finally got to speak with a goblin, the blond man from earlier was long gone. It was just as well. Having something that he could tease but not currently touch made Harry a little testy.

However, he didn’t feel the urge to touch anyone else’s magic. Just that really dark one. He wondered if that said anything about him. He’d have to research it later.

“Key?” the goblin asked emotionlessly.

“Hello,” Harry greeted as politely as he could. He made sure not to inject any weak emotions into his voice like he would have for the wizarding population. “I don’t have a key.”

The goblin finally stopped writing, looking at him with beady eyes. His face looked distinctly unfriendlier at his admission.

Harry reached up to casually brush his hair, revealing the scar on his forehead before it dropped back down.

The goblin’s eyes widened minutely.

“Three drops. Fourth finger, left hand,” the goblin instructed, handing over a very pointy gold knife.

Harry did so, dripping it over the parchment, even as a territorial part of him snarled at having to give something from his body to someone else.

The goblin snatched the parchment from him the moment he did so, and Harry had to repeatedly tell himself not to get impulsive.

“Come this way, Mr. Potter,” the goblin whispered.

Harry raised a brow but continued to smile harmlessly as he followed the goblin to an office that appeared to drip just as much opulence as the previous hall.

The goblin first handed over the parchment to Harry to take a look.

 _Name: Harry James Potter  
Mother: Lily Potter née_ _Evans (Deceased)  
Father: James Potter (Deceased)_

_Eligible Heirships:  
Peverell  
Black  
Potter  
Gryffindor  
Slytherin  
Gaunt_

The goblin tried to maintain an expressionless face, but Harry could see that he was shocked.

“What can I do to claim lordship?”

The goblin bowed briefly to him, which seemed to be the most it could force itself to do, saying, “You will have to try on the rings. Should the houses not accept you, it will return to the box.”

Originally, Griphook would never have suggested as such. Magic would not accept one that had not yet come of age to be a lord of any of the houses, but there was something about this boy that made his hair stand on end.

Harry James Potter seemed to have been blessed by magic itself, and Griphook would not get in the way of magic’s desires.

More than that, he was simply interested in what would happen should someone not of age try to claim lordship. Would it just default to heirship? Or not?

He brought over the boxes, handing them respectfully to the eleven-year-old boy.

Harry tried them all one by one, and his lips curled into a satisfied smile when the rings accepted his magic.

His eyes flashed. Judging from the goblin’s wide eyes, this was definitely not supposed to happen.

“Very good,” Harry purred, and he didn’t miss the slight shudder that went through the goblin’s body.

Its magic was strangely dark as well. Not as dark as the man with platinum blond hair from before, but he noticed that each teller had rather dark magic compared to the light of the other witches and wizards.

Harry’s lips curled into a smirk, deliberately showing a less-than-innocent expression on his previously innocent face.

Griphook shuddered.

“I know you were using me as a little… _experiment_.”

Griphook suddenly dropped to his knees, his every instinct screaming at him to hear and obey. “My apologies! It was not my intention to cause you harm.”

“I rather think you did,” Harry said casually, playing with the rings that had combined into one on his finger. Running a light finger over it, it disappeared from view.

The goblin’s eyes were wide as he looked at the casual use of the ring’s functions. He hadn’t had time to explain that part yet, but this child… no. This lord had already worked it out.

“Tell me. What should I do with you, hmm?” the smile dropped off Harry’s face, and the look in his eyes were so frigid that Griphook started trembling like he’d been dropped into a freezing location with no clothes.

Harry very much enjoyed the flickers of fear, admiration and trembling terror that crossed the goblin’s eyes. But he still pulled back a bit. He would need allies in this world.

Griphook’s head hit the floor. It would have been unimaginable had it been any other human, but Griphook felt magic’s command. He would not disobey.

“I swear to you. I will do whatever you wish of me.”

There was a long pause, and Griphook sweated. Why… why did he feel as if this human would be happy to kill him in cold blood should he be able to get away with it?

The longer the silence dragged on, the more terrified Griphook felt.

It was only when the goblin hit the peak of terror that Harry finally replied, having gained enough amusement watching the goblin cower in front of an eleven-year-old boy.

“I accept you vow of loyalty. You know what will happen should you fail to live up to my expectations, right, Griphook?”

Griphook shuddered again. “Yes, my lord.”

Harry’s lips curled into something slow and satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone. I'm so excited about this story, as well as the comments I've been getting! Thank you for all the interest! :)


	3. Chapter 3

Harry stepped through to platform 9 ¾. The only thing that showed his true emotions was the blink and instantly hidden disgust at the plethora of messy emotions and weeping that came from all corners.

Grabbing his trunk, Harry casually strolled onto the train, hefting his trunk up onto the rack.

He chose an unoccupied compartment when everyone else was still saying their dramatic farewells, as if they wouldn’t ever see each other again.

There was hardly anyone on the train, so he had free reign to pick and choose.

He would need to make… _friends_ , so his compartment couldn’t be too out of the way, and he had to look inviting enough that people would actually try and enter if the other compartments were full.

Harry knew that he was, objectively, a beautiful boy, and he had no qualms about using that to his advantage.

Upper years already had their own cliques, so it wasn’t likely that they would join with any first years.

This meant that the train ride was the easiest time for Harry to form connections before they reached Hogwarts.

It took another good hour before the commotion outside died down.

There had been a few peeks into his compartment, but no one that came in or knocked.

Harry continued reading, tuning out the world for the time being.

When the scramble came, he would be here all the same.

There was indeed a mad scramble as students from all the different years started piling onto the train, and from what he could feel, the train was filling up fast.

There was a mix of Dark and Light students, and their cores were a lot less developed compared to the many witches and wizards from Diagon Alley.

Harry compared it to his own and found theirs… lacking.

He sighed softly and continued reading his extra material, paying no more attention to his surroundings.

Should people come, he would play host, but if they didn’t, well… it wasn’t that much of a loss.

There was a train whistle in the distance before the train started to move.

In that time, there were other people that peeked into the compartment window as well, but still no one that dared to enter.

It wasn’t until the train started moving that people started moving around again, but only around in their compartments.

It was why Harry’s interest was piqued when he noticed someone moving around from compartment to compartment.

When that person reached him, Harry tilted his head seeing the shock of blond hair that reminded him so much of that man in Gringotts previously.

The blond knocked politely and entered after Harry told him to enter.

Harry took the chance to size up the blond in front of him. His hair was a pale, platinum blond, and his hair was slicked back to give him an aristocratic look.

His features were rather similar to the blond man from before.

‘Must be a son,’ Harry thought to himself.

A closer look at him revealed that even their cores were rather similar.

“Hello,” Harry greeted, smiling at the boy.

Draco paused before flushing at his lack of manners. “Hello,” he echoed. He cleared his throat and seemed to puff himself up. “Have you seen Harry Potter, perhaps? I heard he’s supposed to be on the train.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile. He did love it when everything lined up so perfectly like this.

Draco drew back, seemingly offended that Harry was laughing at his question. How dare he laugh at Draco! He supposed that the other thought he carried some kind of… of… _hero worship_ for Harry Potter, but that wasn’t the case at all.

Just as Draco opened his mouth to tell him exactly that, Harry talked first.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Draco’s mouth snapped shut, stunned. Did he just hear right?

Draco scanned the boy from top to bottom, but he didn’t look anything like how the blond imagined him to look like.

He thought that Harry Potter would have round, circular glasses, just like his father. From the way the books and newspaper described him, Harry Potter should have been a carbon copy of his father.

Instead, the boy in front of him didn’t wear any glasses at all, showing off his emerald green eyes. His eyes shone with intelligence, and the smile on his face made him feel amiable and friendly.

Draco originally thought that Harry Potter would have been surrounded by his loving fans, so he hadn’t even harboured a faint thought that this boy in front of him would be Harry Potter.

Then, his previous behaviour crept up on him, and the blond felt his face flush.

Embarrassed, Draco cleared his throat, and entered the compartment properly. “Are you really?”

“Yes,” Harry answered with as much patience as he could.

Draco stuck out his hand. “Draco Malfoy.”

Harry calmly shook his hand. “Harry Potter,” he said, smiling charmingly at the pureblood.

Draco didn’t know what to think, finding out that his childhood hero was so different from what he had been portrayed as in the books. He didn’t feel betrayed, per se, but he didn’t know how to act.

“May I?” Draco gestured at the seat.

“Please.”

“If you don’t mind, why exactly are you… alone, Potter?” Draco questioned curiously.

Harry smiled faintly. “Call me Harry. Why aren’t I with my loyal fans, you mean?”

Draco flushed, but he nodded all the same. “Draco, then.”

“Well, you see, I grew up with muggles. Up until a while ago, I didn’t even know that a world filled with magic existed,” Harry explained. He elegantly crossed his legs, and it caught Draco’s attention. “I’m not proud to admit it, but we didn’t quite get along, if you know what I mean.”

Draco’s brows furrowed a little, confused. From what he’d seen so far, the boy appeared like a perfect pureblood. How was that possible?

Harry saw Draco’s confusion, but he had no intentions of enlightening him. He just played the pity card, slowly letting the blond come to his own conclusions.

Draco’s face changed minutely as he caught the subtle hint that Harry dropped, and he wisely steered clear of the subject.

Of course, what he didn’t know was that it wasn’t how he imagined it at all.

“What house do you suppose you’ll get into?” Draco changed the subject. “You do know what houses there are in Hogwarts, don’t you?”

Harry licked the inside of his cheek. He didn’t appreciate how the other seemed to look down on him the moment he learnt that Harry wasn’t magical raised. It stirred up unpleasant things in him, but he wasn’t in a terrible mood.

He still felt good from the reaction he had so obviously induced in the blond’s father previously, so Harry was lenient.

“I do. I suppose I’ll go into Hufflepuff.”

“Hufflepuff?” Draco echoed back, aghast. “Why Hufflepuff?!”

Harry’s lips curled into a smirk. “Why not Hufflepuff?”

“Hufflepuff is the house no one wants to get into! I rather imagine I’ll be in Slytherin, like the rest of my family,” Draco said proudly.

Harry smiled indulgently at the blond. “If I get a choice, Hufflepuff is the best house to choose, of course.”

“I don’t see _why_ ,” Draco frowned, crossing his arms.

“Why should I go into any other house, with all the house prejudice going around?” Harry said calmly, flipping a page.

Draco sputtered.

“No one’s ever going to say that a Hufflepuff is evil. The house is known for hard workers, you have many connections and friends. Tell me, then. What can the other houses offer me that I can’t get in Hufflepuff?”

Draco felt stunned, gazing into the distance as he thought about Harry’s words.

No one had ever told him such things before, but he suddenly felt like the other boy was right.

All his life, he’d always dreamed about going into Slytherin because that’s where he was sure he belonged. He never once set his sights elsewhere, and perhaps that was a mistake.

Draco fell into a trance as he thought it over, and Harry, seeing that Draco was lost in thought, returned to his book.

An undetermined amount of time passed before Draco spoke up again. “Harry, are we friends?”

Harry looked up from his book. “Why, of course. My very first, in fact.” Harry smiled, and it was a secretive smile.

Draco hesitated. He was still rather undecided. But… why did it feel very Slytherin to hide himself in another house?

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

As he was once again lost in thought, the compartment door rattled as someone desperately tried to get in.


	4. Chapter 4

A red-haired boy shoved himself into the room, hastily slamming the door shut behind him.

He was panting harshly, his face a stark white.

It was only then that he seemed to realize that there were other people in the compartment. “Ah, hello,” he greeted with embarrassment. “Sorry about that. My brothers – they were chasing me with a tarantula.”

The boy’s face pinked, and Harry raised a brow.

“Sit down, then.”

Ron looked between the two boy in the compartment, and he paused when he saw a shock of platinum blond hair.

Draco eyed the Weasley that just entered, but he didn’t say anything. He was still busy thinking about what Harry had said previously.

He hesitated a little, but he still stuck his hand out to Draco.

“Ron Weasley.”

Draco was broken out of his thoughts by the hand stuck in front of him, and he raised both brows in confusion. His father always told him that they wouldn’t get along with the Weasley family, but it seemed like this one wasn’t too bad.

Draco shook Ron’s hand coolly. “Draco Malfoy.” He returned to his contemplation again, looking like he was in a daze.

Ron was confused. “What’s with him?” he whispered to Harry.

“I’m Ron Weasley,” Ron stuck his hand out to Harry, who shook it quietly.

“Harry Potter.”

Ron gasped. “You’re Harry Potter?” The boy looked at the approximate area where his scar was, and Harry felt a spike of annoyance. “Do you have the… you know?”

At this, Draco broke out from his thoughts, rolling his eyes. “You have no tact, you know?”

Ron’s face started to go red.

Harry started to interject, seeing that they were about to start fighting. “I do. But you shouldn’t ask people about something that they got the very night their parents were killed, don’t you think?”

Ron’s face went red for a different reason. “I – I. You’re right, that was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

Rather than not wanting them to fight, Harry was rather hoping that the two would become friends so that they could chat. Then, Harry didn’t have to talk at every opportunity. He could just fade into the background and interject from time to time.

That seemed much more reasonable.

However, the two’s clan or whatnot seemed like they had some kind of feud, and that rather interested Harry. What if two of their sons became close friends? What would their parents do?

A slow smile started to grow on Harry’s face, which seemed to break some of the tension in the room.

“So, what’s got you thinking so deeply?” Ron directed at Draco, apologizing without actually saying the words.

Draco huffed, taking the unspoken apology. “Well, if you must know, Harry here told me something rather interesting. It just made me think, that’s all.”

“Well? Don’t just stop there. Share with the rest of the class, why don’t you?”

Draco smirked. “Why don’t you ask what house Harry’s planning to go into instead?”

Ron tilted his head. “What house _are_ you planning to go to?”

Harry smiled. “Why, Hufflepuff, of course.”

“Wait, what? You’re not going to Gryffindor?” Ron seemed shellshocked. He couldn’t compute _the_ Harry Potter not going to Gryffindor, where he would likely go.

Everything he knew about Harry Potter said that he was a Light wizard destined to be great. He just couldn’t understand. Why didn’t he want to go to Gryffindor like his parents had?

Harry flipped a page. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t judge me from those books that have no idea what they’re printing. They didn’t even ask me anything before writing them in the first place. I have half a mind to sue them.”

Ron’s face reddened again, and Harry absently thought that he’d have to break the redhead of that habit if he wanted to keep him around.

“Sorry. Well, it’s just. Why not Gryffindor?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “What’s so good about Gryffindor, then?”

“Well, that’s where all the Light wizards are, aren’t they? They’re the best house!”

“No,” Harry said instead. “That’s a subjective opinion, really. What’s the best for you isn’t the best for someone else. Besides, I’m definitely going to ask to be put into Hufflepuff.”

“But Hufflepuff is the house that all the rejects go to!”

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I think not. Do you really think a founder would allow ‘rejects’ to enter their house? No, Hufflepuff is known for their loyalty, as well as their hard work. I rather think that sounds lovely, don’t you?”

Ron sputtered, and Draco made a big gesture towards Harry. “See why I was so dazed previously?”

The redhead nodded unconsciously, and the two exchanged looks. It was almost like they were bonding over Harry’s weirdness.

Strangely, the two didn’t seem to feel much of a feud between them, which made Harry both relieved and disappointed at the same time.

“Well, Hufflepuff doesn’t seem so bad when it’s put that way, does it?” Draco said, musing.

“I suppose not.”

Harry ignored further attempts at conversation, having maxed out his social meter for the day. There was only so much he could force himself to be social in a day, considering he didn’t feel the need to do so in the first place.

Having two ‘friends’ around was better indeed.

Hopefully they would stay that way.

But Harry still interjected from time to time in their conversation, making them think more positively about the house that they could potentially go in.

-

The Great Hall was just as grand as the books made it out to be, and the ceiling was a work of art that made Harry itch to deconstruct the spell work laid on it.

Ron said some nonsense about having to fight trolls, but Draco just rolled his eyes. “Don’t be silly. We only fight trolls in October. We only have to get sorted by a dirty old hat.”

Ron looked extremely relieved, before he glared at where he could see his twin brothers sitting in Gryffindor.

“I just knew I shouldn’t have listened to them,” he muttered to himself.

The Sorting Hat started its song, which Harry could hardly be bothered to listen to. Instead, he was studying his fellow first years, wondering who he could use and who he would discard.

It was too early to tell.

“Draco Malfoy!”

By the time they reached Draco’s name, they were about halfway through the list.

The blond sauntered up to the rickety stool in front of the entire school and sat himself down. Professor McGonagall lowered the hat onto his head, and Harry watched with anticipation.

The hat made a few funny faces as it tilted here and there, clearly conversing with Draco in his mind.

At last, the hat shouted out for the hall to hear, “Hufflepuff!”.

The entire hall was enveloped in silence, shock colouring their features.

Who didn’t know about the Malfoy family, who had been supposedly under the Imperio curse in the previous war?

They thought that just like Lucius Malfoy, his son would have gone into Slytherin, as all Dark wizards and witches did.

However, much to their shock, the Malfoy went into _Hufflepuff_.

The blond slicked his hair back and walked towards the house of badgers.

It seemed to snap the house out of their stupor as they clapped enthusiastically. As he passed by a few upper years, they slapped him on the back with friendly intentions, all the way until he reached the first-year seats.

Draco’s face was flushed, and he looked a little worried, but not overly so.

Draco looked over at both Harry and Ron and resisted the urge to give them a thumbs up.

If anything, he was being a true Slytherin here, masquerading as another house. What Harry said was true indeed, and he didn’t regret anything.

While he was briefly worried about his father’s reaction, he was sure that he would be able to convince the man before long.

“Harry Potter!”

For the second time that night, the Great Hall fell into silence again as they waited with bated breath.

The Sorting Hat only touched the boy’s head for ten seconds before it spat out, “Hufflepuff!”

This time, there was a shocked silence before the entire hall went into uproar.

Harry didn’t pay the fools any mention as he calmly walked towards Draco, smiling at the friendly calls that the house gave him.

He’d seen the way they reacted to Draco, who supposedly wasn’t well-liked outside of Slytherin, and it made his eyes glitter.

This was indeed the house that suited him the best. Of course, the Sorting Hat didn’t quite want to put him here, saying some nonsense like he would cause the entire wizarding world to bow at his feet or whatnot, but this was the best place for him to use people and manipulate their impressions of him.

Draco and Harry exchanged pleasantries with the rest of their house and their fellow first years as they waited for Ron to be sorted.

Harry already had the feeling that Ron would be joining them in the house of yellow and black.

Sure enough, when the Sorting Hat called out, “Hufflepuff!” for the latest Weasley, the Great Hall was shocked for the last time that night.

They were all reeling from the shocks they’d taken, and the professor’s table was no different.

While they tried to hide their reactions, it was clear that never in a million years did they expect this to happen.

Hidden behind a goblet of pumpkin juice, a dark smile crept up on Harry’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos keep the author aliveee! :)


	5. Chapter 5

At breakfast the next day, it was most amusing when Draco’s face paled until it had barely more colour than a sheet of paper.

The owls that were flying in en masse did little to relieve the blond from his obvious fears. Instead, he looked ready to faint.

Ron raised a brow questioningly, looking at the Malfoy who was breaking from his usual pureblood mask.

From what he’d heard from his father before, he would never have expected the other boy to do something so… out of line. He always expected that the Malfoy he would meet would be a stuck-up prick, but the other boy hadn’t actually said anything derogatory to him on the train earlier.

More than that, he was in Hufflepuff with him. He, a Malfoy, that had been taught from young about pureblood supremacy, was in Hufflepuff with him!

He knew what everyone thought about Hufflepuffs.

So many thought that they were meek and tame, and that they were useless, but after hearing Harry’s words yesterday, Ron found that he could no longer think about them that way.

But he hadn’t realized how much his thoughts had changed until he was sorted into Hufflepuff himself!

He even felt like he could call the other boy his friend, along with Harry.

Harry Potter wasn’t what he had envisioned at all, either. He was so much smarter, calmer, and logical. He was even more mature than him, and for the first time, Ron actually felt like he looked up to someone his own age.

Ron felt all of his preconceived notions knocked out of his head, and he didn’t know it, but it was exactly because of his first meeting with Harry that the boy would feel sceptical reading about anyone featured in the Daily Prophet later on.

Anyway, Ron didn’t feel good seeing Draco look so terrified, and it was likely that the other boy would kick himself for acting like this when he regained his senses.

So, he helped the only way he knew how.

Ron slung his arm over the other boy, jolting him out of his thoughts. “What’s got you so worried, mate?”

Draco snapped out of it, letting out a scoff. “Mate?” Draco looked so offended that it was actually funny.

Ron snorted. “Glad to see you’re looking better.”

“Take your arm off me, Weasley,” Draco sneered.

“I think not, Malfoy,” Ron sneered back.

Harry let them go on, feeling like they would take a while. It was too early in the morning for him to make nice. With the infernal racket that went around in the Hufflepuff dorm as everyone tried to make nice, he would have to look up something to silence them.

Besides, he’d let the other Houses get a good look at the two who were supposed to have a blood-feud seemingly teasing each other.

Harry rather found amusement in the way some of them even dropped their breakfast, their mouths wide.

The first year snuck a look at the teacher’s table, only for him to feel his scar twinge slightly, catching his attention.

He tilted his head a bit, looking over the teachers.

They were all showing varying states of disbelief, but there was a single, dour-faced man who was trying to feign impassiveness. If what Harry was reading was right, and let’s face it, he always was, the man was more surprised than anyone else.

“Who’s that?” Harry questioned.

Ron and Draco stopped ribbing each other, the two finding that they really didn’t hate each other like they’d been conditioned to.

“Who?”

“The professor in all black robes who looks like he’d rather not have woken up in the morning.”

Draco held back a snort at that description. Truly, his Godfather did look like he’d rather not have woken up to, quote, ‘teach those dunderheads’ unquote.

“That’s my Godfather, Severus Snape. He teaches potions.”

Harry raised a brow, sorting the information away. He hadn’t missed the long, searching look the other man gave him, and he didn’t like not knowing what had caused that look in the first place.

“He’s your Godfather?” Ron whispered, horrified.

Harry could feel the rest of the House listening in, however subtly they thought they were doing so.

By this time, a rather regal-looking owl landed in front of Draco, causing the blond’s words to stop in his tracks, his face going pasty-white again.

Ron, who had never released his arm from the other boy’s shoulder, squeezed his shoulder a little. “Relax. We’re here for you,” he said, surprisingly insightful.

Harry reassessed his judgement of the boy a little. It seemed like he had learnt some tact, after yesterday’s disaster of a meeting, at least.

Surprisingly, Draco actually did relax a little, regaining a bit of colour in his face. “Of course you are,” he said in place of thanks.

Ron just smirked.

Draco took the letter but didn’t open it there and then, which was wise of him.

While the rest of the House didn’t look like they were one to gossip, Harry really had yet to make an accurate judgement. After all, he’d only been here a day.

Their head of house, Professor Sprout, started giving out the various timetables, and Harry raised a brow when he noted that they were paired with the rest of the three Houses rather equally.

From what he’d heard, he had expected for Hufflepuff to be paired with Ravenclaw most of the time, but it looked like something had changed.

“Looks like we have herbology with Ravenclaw first, then potions with Slytherin later.”

-

Harry actually felt rather upset when he realized that the lessons they would be getting in the first year really wouldn’t be going outside of their books at all.

He supposed that he should have expected it, but it just left him feeling disgusted and disgruntled at the waste of his time when he could be doing so much more.

It was only his first class, but he could already tell that it was going to be a huge waste of time.

Yet, he couldn’t possibly have resisted going through those books when he first got them.

Harry smiled ‘genuinely’ at their head of house as she praised him for his exceptional work. She was all but glowing when he went around helping the rest of the first years regardless of their House.

Done and bored, Harry walked around and made more connections with the other students instead.

That was a much better use of his time.

As patiently as he could, he helped them understand in a way that their tiny brains could comprehend, and he received their gratitude with grace.

Both Ron and Draco seemed fine for now, and he had to wonder just how much of the ‘help’ that his fellow first years required was because of his apparent status in the wizarding world?

Anyway, he was not pleased when he realized that many of his fellow first years around him had light cores rather than dark ones.

It made him wonder… could he change that?

Or should he just leave them to their liking so that he could use them later on?

However, Harry didn’t really think he would leave them so light if he managed to find a way to do it. He didn’t feel quite as amiable to those with lighter cores, and he could actually feel whatever little interest he had in them fading the more time went on, bored by their inane questions.

Draco’s core was beautifully dark, much like his father’s had been, and Ron’s was light.

They clashed wonderfully, and it just gave Harry further thoughts about whether or not he could corrupt that white light.

He knew that they were all supposed to be innocent first years, but he was really terribly bored.

Herbology was a bit of a let-down, to be honest. He hoped that potions later would be different. From what he’d heard about Draco’s Godfather, the man was usually stern and impassive, if rather cutting when he taught his students.

Apparently, he didn’t suffer fools lightly.

Harry licked his lips.

He really wanted to _break_ that façade.


	6. Chapter 6

The dungeons were rather draughty, not that Harry felt it. He’d cast a warming spell over himself to keep himself warm.

Still, as they waited for Draco’s Godfather to come and admit them into the room, Hufflepuffs talked amongst themselves, while the Slytherins, who were similarly talking, tried to play off as cool and aloof.

However, the Slytherins kept casting looks at Harry and Draco. Subtle, they were not.

Personally, Harry put it down to them being first years, but there were two people from the Slytherin House that he was interested in.

While the two of them had given them curious looks, they weren’t like the rest of the first years that looked disgusted just looking at Malfoy.

They were Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott, whom Harry could see himself using.

Ron had, surprisingly, taken stance in front of Draco, blocking him from the views of the Slytherins, and though Draco appeared as if he couldn’t care less, there was a slight fluctuation in his magic that made Harry smirk.

Not so surprisingly, the rest of the Hufflepuff first years took cue from Ron, subtly blocking Draco from view as well.

Draco gave them a tight nod, trying to come off as nonchalant, but there was the slightest tinge on his cheeks that gave him away.

Something inside Harry purred. They were already showing such House loyalty when they barely knew each other.

They would be all too easy to manipulate.

Harry didn’t miss the intrigued looks on the Slytherin’s faces, when they noticed that they were shielding Draco from their view.

After all, none of them knew each other. Well, the purebloods knew each other, but they didn’t know the rest of them, which was why they were surprised at the protection Draco seemed to have garnered without doing anything.

Wisely, most of them backed off, but Harry kept an eye on some of them who seemed like they wouldn’t, committing their faces to memory.

At this moment, Professor Snape glided down the stone cobbled path, appearing suddenly from behind the corner.

There wasn’t a single sound to his footsteps, but Harry had felt him coming.

The man caused quite a few of them to jump as he suddenly spoke. “Inside.”

Severus’s magic quivered just the slightest bit in humour even as his face remained impassive as the first years jumped a foot at his sudden entrance.

Unfortunately, most of the upper years had gotten used to his entrance already, leaving him devoid of this amusement. He had to milk it where he could.

The first years quickly filed into the room, and Harry quickly claimed a table in the middle of the room, waving off Draco and Ron to get a table together.

Harry waved at Zabini, who stalled a little when he realized that _he_ was the one being waved to.

The boy struggled with his curiosity as he maintained his pureblood mask, coming off as cool. At least, he came off as cool to everyone else other than Harry, who was able to discern what people were feeling through their magic.

Handy, that. Harry was rather using it a lot now, and he didn’t think that anyone else could do it either. Otherwise, they would have done something about it – the purebloods hated to be caught unaware.

There was just half a step of hesitation before the Zabini confidently strode over, as if he meant to do it in the first place.

Under the watchful eyes of both Houses, Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini shared a potions table together.

Harry practically felt the curiosity in the room grow exponentially, but Harry just smiled at his new… partner, and he wondered if he should have gone into the Slytherin House in the first place.

The cores there were already rather dark, but none as dark as Blaise Zabini here. Harry was curious, and he wanted this boy here as one of his ‘friends’ to experiment with.

Zabini was about to speak, but the professor started talking.

He turned around, and his robe flared dramatically. His face severe as he talked about what Potions could do.

Harry listened with half an ear, instead electing to stare at the man’s lovely core.

It was practically seeped in darkness, oozing it as it pulsed with his emotions. It was even darker than Lucius Malfoy’s core.

Harry wondered how it would taste.

Other than that, there was something that puzzled him a little. There was a little strand of the man’s magic that seemed to reach out to Harry’s, which he couldn’t for the life of him make sense of right now, but it didn’t seem to do anything harmful. Harry would have felt it otherwise.

Severus started taking rollcall, his voice silky smooth, but devoid of much emotion, as if he couldn’t wait for this class to end already.

“Harry Potter.”

By the time he reached Harry’s name, there was a visible change in the man’s emotions, and his core practically came alive as his emotions flared.

Harry’s finger twitched. “Here.”

Severus opened his mouth as he was about to speak further, but Harry wasn’t going to hold back anymore. More than anything, that core looked so appetizing that Harry almost felt as if he was salivating over it.

Harry’s magic, unbeknownst to everyone else around him, stealthily reached out and brushed over the dark core. He didn’t even have to mask his magic, sending it through the bond that their cores apparently had, causing Severus to choke back his words as the largest, most intrusive amount of sheer and utter pleasure coursed through his body.

By Merlin, the man was glad that his robes hid everything, or he would have been humiliated in front of a bunch of first years. Thankfully, his mask remained ever in place, and the man hurried through the rest of the names.

He only had the slightest pause, but none of the first years, bar one, noticed anything amiss.

Harry smirked inwardly, but his face only portrayed a wide-eyed innocence, like the rest of the Hufflepuffs.

But still, he hadn’t managed to get the man’s mask to crack just yet. Was it because he had that much control over himself, or was it because Harry wasn’t doing enough?

Severus quickly turned around as he re-oriented himself, getting himself back into the proper state of mind.

‘Merlin, what was that?’ he couldn’t help but think to himself. What in the world had overcome him?

With the amount of dark magic that washed over him, it felt like someone had been caressing his core, and in turn, sending vast amounts of pleasure throughout every nerve of his body.

In a room full of first years!

He would almost have suspected the Dark Mark, but the Dark Lord didn’t do pleasure. He only doled out pain and punishment.

Hiding the precarious state of his body, Severus took up a piece of chalk and wrote on the board, only for his fingers to tighten on the chalk as the pleasure came again, just as intensely – no – more intensely than before.

Now, more than ever, Severus suspected that someone in the room was doing it. But who? And how?

The pleasure abruptly retreated, and the man had to steady himself as his body staggered a little. His breathing was slightly heavier than usual, but nothing that he couldn’t hide.

Severus’ dark eyes scanned over every child in the room, but he could see no way that they would be the ones doing something like this.

He knew all his Slytherins, and the pureblood Hufflepuffs. He had been stunned when Draco went into Hufflepuff – his father was rather in a snit about it, calling him to complain over supper yesterday.

If it wasn’t the Slytherins, and it wasn’t most of the Hufflepuffs, then…

Severus’ eyes stopped on one bloody menace. Come to think of it, hadn’t it first happened when he was about to talk after saying Potter’s name?

Harry was rather entertained watching the man try and hide his reactions. It was just as amusing as it had been watching Lucius Malfoy hide his reactions in front of the goblins and other wizards.

He took an inordinate amount of pleasure in it, but he couldn’t be more pleased. The mask might not have broken, but there were the faintest traces of hairline fractures that he could see.

For now, Harry didn’t do anything else. He met the professor’s eyes calmly, innocently. The glare that the man gave him would have sent a real first year into tears.

Severus looked at the boy suspiciously, but he had to carry on with the class in the end lest anyone seem to catch on.

By the end of the class, Severus was more than ready to just collapse there and then. There hadn’t been any other pleasurable feelings, but he felt disgusting. He would have to change his clothes before he did anything else.

Severus sent the first years out of his room with a thunderous look on his face. Things hadn’t happened like he’d expected at all!

Outside the room, Draco shouldered his bag with a strange expression on his face. “He was being weird.”

“Weird how?” Ron raised a brow. From everything he heard from his brothers, this was the man’s normal.

“Well… I don’t know. He’s just not like that usually,” Draco said with a confused expression. “There was something off.”

Harry smothered any amusement from showing on his face. The man probably needed to change his clothes as soon as possible. Well… his pants at least.

-

Dumbledore didn’t know where it all started going wrong.

He sucked on a lemon drop to fend off the headache now. While he would usually have asked Severus for a headache potion, the man had been in a terribly foul mood for the entirety of the day, and he had no reason why.

Why, just during dinner earlier, Severus’ face looked like he was about to murder whoever talked to him next, and no one dared to talk to him.

While Dumbledore would have spoken to him had he been his normal, genial self, the headache was truly a menace, and he just knew that speaking to the acerbic man at with it would make it worse.

So, no, Dumbledore nursed his headache, waiting for it to pass. The lemon drops made it better, anyhow, laced in calming potion as they were.

The reason for his headache was the one and only Harry Potter.

It was only the second day, yet things had already started unravelling. Just why? Just how?

Why was Harry Potter a Hufflepuff?

What he needed was a brave, foolish Gryffindor that listened to orders, not a meek Hufflepuff!

The damned muggles must have beaten on him too hard, causing him to become completely meek instead.

Dumbledore’s anger started to boil, but nothing uncontrollable. It was just a low flame; with the calming potions he was taking, there was no way it could be anything big.

They must have actually, physically hit him instead of just verbally and mentally abusing him.

Dumbledore seethed at the unexpected kink in his plans.

Not only that, the headmaster had to hastily rearrange his plans for every year because the damn boy had gone into Hufflepuff instead of Gryffindor.

How else could he ensure that the boy thought of Slytherins as the scum of the earth? He surely wouldn’t think that with almost all his classes with Ravenclaw!

‘It’s alright,’ Dumbledore calmed himself down. ‘Everything’s fine. I can rework this.’

Though, there was something about the boy that niggled at this mind. Something that felt suspiciously like… no.

The calming potion on the lemon drops must have expired, that’s what it was. There was no way the boy was anything like Tom Riddle.

Calming himself down, Dumbledore stroked his phoenix, sighing. He took off his half-moon spectacles, rubbing his eyes.

The headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry pulled on his fluffy, woollen socks, then lay down on his bed.

He would have to call Harry to him to put his mind at ease.

Tomorrow.


	7. Chapter 7

Later that night, Draco huddled within his bunk, brushing off Ron and Harry.

Ron gave Harry a glance, but he saw that Harry seemed fine with leaving Draco alone to deal with his letter.

Ron might not be the brightest lumos cast, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take a hint.

He knew that Draco was a pureblood, like him, but the other seemed to have been raised in the traditional pureblood way. Unlike the Weasleys, who were considered blood traitors to them, and could thus act out without any repercussions, Draco didn’t have that luxury.

While his brothers and parents were probably surprised that he’d been sorted into Hufflepuff, that didn’t mean he had to face their disappointment.

Draco, however, was a Malfoy, and someone that was always expected to uphold the pureblood tradition, meaning wear a mask that prevented others from seeing what they were feeling, as well as going into Slytherin.

However, against all odds, Draco had _chosen_ to go into Hufflepuff instead, because of their trio’s newfound friendship, and there was something inside Ron that squirmed knowing that he did it willingly.

He’d certainly never expected to find himself with friends this quickly, that was for sure.

However, when Ron heard the sound of muffled, stifled sobs coming from the drawn curtains, as if the inhabitant didn’t want anyone to know that they were crying, Ron couldn’t hold back anymore.

He was beaten to it by Harry, who very audibly flung open the blond’s curtains, causing Draco’s crying session to stutter as he looked at the two with humiliation etched upon his face.

“Harry, Ron…!” Draco glared at the two, but it had the effectiveness of an angrily crying kitten. That was to say, none at all. “Can’t you take a hint! My curtains were drawn!”

Ron took this as the cue to speak up. He sniffed in a way he’d heard Draco sniff before, drawing his ire. “As if we could just leave you when you were crying your little heart out.”

“You-!”

Harry reached forward and placed a hand on Draco’s head, patting him. He caused Draco to freeze in shock, staring at them with wide eyes.

However, there was no pity in Harry’s eyes, which caused the blond to calm down a little.

“What did he say?” Harry asked.

“I – I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harry wanted to just… There was a reason why he wasn’t good with dealing with temperamental children.

Luckily, Ron stepped up before he lost any more patience. “Don’t even try it, Malfoy. If it wasn’t that letter from your dad, what else would make you cry like a baby?”

“I was not crying like a baby!”

“Just tell us what it said, Draco!”

Draco scowled, but shoved over the letter to them.

Ron and Harry scanned over it, and Harry could see how someone like the young Malfoy could feel upset with the letter.

Draco talked about his father almost incessantly on the train ride to Hogwarts until he realized that the two boys didn’t care who his father was, or who he was. He relaxed a little after that, talking about the man less.

Ron started swearing. “That blood bastard!”

Draco still glared at the boy a little. “Don’t call him that.”

The Weasley Hufflepuff glared back, still incensed. “He has no right to talk to you like that, father or not. I say you write back a scathing reply.”

Harry calmed down both boys before they got too heated. The reason why he had them befriend each other was so that they could take care of each other, not for them to constantly fight!

“You should write to him about your thoughts, and how you’re being a true Slytherin by blending into Hufflepuff together with your new friends.”

The two paused hearing Harry’s words, and Ron grudgingly acknowledged that would go down better than what he’d been thinking.

Still, he couldn’t help but feel miffed at the scathing tone that Draco’s father was using to write to him.

Draco cleaned his face, and he sniffed at them, primly walking away to write his letter.

Ron let out a laugh. “Looks like he’ll be fine, eh?”

“It appears so.”

-

Professor Sprout called for Harry during lunch in the Great Hall, causing more than a few curious looks.

“What is it, Professor Sprout?” Harry asked, making sure to sound polite and respectful.

While he was curious about what she wanted, it was more to keep up appearances that he made himself appear so polite and respectful.

If he wasn’t _The Boy Who Lived_ , he wouldn’t have bothered with such a pretence, but since they were handing it to him on a silver platter, well, who was Harry to refuse?

Professor Sprout beamed at him cheerfully, and the others tried to look away while they ate, but Harry could practically feel their curiosity grow.

“Mr. Potter, Professor Dumbledore would like a moment of your time after lunch in his office.”

Harry’s brows quivered as he fought off the urge to raise them, and he adopted a look of confused innocent instead. “Have I… done something wrong?” He made sure to employ his green eyes to their full potential, causing Sprout to scramble to reassure him.

“No, no, dear. Nothing like that. He’d just like to check in on you, that’s all.”

Harry’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Check in on me?” Harry asked. “Why would he need to do that? Is that a common occurrence in this school?”

Professor Sprout opened her mouth to answer before her own brows furrowed in confusion, suddenly wondering why the headmaster needed to talk to Harry Potter specially, when he usually never did for anyone else.

Now that Mr. Potter spoke of it, it seemed strange, but she kept her doubts to herself for the time being.

“It is not normally a common occurrence, no, but don’t you be worried. I’m not sure what he wants, but I can tell you now, Mr. Potter, that you are not in trouble. If there’s anything wrong with your meeting, come and see me, and we’ll sort it out, alright dear?”

Harry just nodded with a small smile on his face, giving off the relief he felt.

Professor Sprout beamed at him. “No need for the password. The gargoyle will let you in. I’ll ask an upper year to bring you there.”

The professor looked around, causing the students that had been eavesdropping to hastily move their utensils again. She chuckled inwardly. Subtle, students were not.

“Mr. Diggory, could you please bring Mr. Potter here to headmaster Dumbledore’s office after lunch?”

Cedric jerked at suddenly being called out by their Head of House, but he still looked at her and answered affirmatively. He smiled at the first year, reassuring him. He received a smile in return before returning to his lunch with the rest of his House.

Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered to him, mindful of eavesdroppers. “What do you reckon he wants with you? I’ve never heard of the headmaster calling any student to his office from my brothers… well, ever.”

Draco scoffed, elegantly slicing into his steak. “Ronald, please keep the tales of what you’ve heard from your siblings. Don’t think we’ve forgotten how they told you that you have to fight a troll for your sorting.”

Ron’s face went red. “That – it was the twins, not the others!”

“Well, it goes to stand, doesn’t it?” Draco arched an eyebrow superiorly, ignoring the other choked laughter from the first years near them before turning back to Harry. “He’s right, though. Headmaster of Hogwarts or not, that doesn’t give him a right to single you out.”

Hannah Abbot, who was sitting nearby, nodded her head. “If you don’t want to go, just say so. He can’t force you to go since you haven’t done anything that needs disciplinary action. Even if you have, it’s handled by our Head of House, Professor Sprout.”

Harry nodded at them in thanks. “I’ll still go after lunch to see what he wants. I’m rather curious about it as well. Why would he need to see me?”

Draco seemed to have some thoughts, but he doubtfully hid it. It wouldn’t do for the Hufflepuffs to hear about what he thought about Dumbledore. He knew that Hufflepuffs were mostly Light, and it wouldn’t be very Slytherin of him to bring it up right here in the Great Hall where everyone could overhear them.

-

Cedric led the little first year to Professor Dumbledore’s office, and he couldn’t help but look a few more times at the famous Harry Potter.

The boy wasn’t like what he’d imagined at all.

Everyone had been rather shocked when their saviour entered Hufflepuff instead of any other House.

Not that there was anything wrong with their House. In fact, everyone who entered it felt proud, but they knew what everyone else thought about them.

So, the fact that Harry Potter of all people had entered their House meant that their House was shining in a way that it never had.

For now, at least.

The first years had already started to gather in a group, and Cedric could see that Potter was at the centre of it all. It made him curious, but he wouldn’t barrage the boy with questions.

Harry appreciated the older boy not chatting his ear off, just simply explaining the route to him and how he could come to him if anything untoward happened to him in there.

It made Harry hide a smirk. Somehow, he felt like the Hufflepuffs weren’t as enamoured with Dumbledore like the rest of the wizarding world was.

It made him wonder what else he had to discover.

Harry wasn’t blind to the fact that Albus Dumbledore was his magical guardian. Or rather, he had been… until Harry claimed his heirships.

Had he not been chosen by magic – as explained to him by a fearful Griphook – he would likely have had a much worse time under the man’s thumb.

Harry’s eyes glittered as the gargoyle admitted him entrance.

He turned to the third year that helped him out, smiling at him. “Thank you, Diggory.”

“No problem. You can talk to me any time,” the boy said as he waved him on.

Harry stepped onto the staircase, nodding at him.


	8. Chapter 8

Harry stepped into Dumbledore’s office and was absolutely disgusted.

There was such a thing as professional upkeeping of one’s office, and this had crossed the line.

With the man’s various knickknacks and trinkets stood out as if they were there to keep the attention of whatever errant child had to enter into his office.

The only thing that was remotely acceptable was the multitude of books in his bookshelves, but even then, he didn’t quite like having it all placed out in the open like this.

This wasn’t the man’s library, and the various titles he spotted in the bookcase were not those suitable for the Headmaster’s Office.

But Harry was digressing.

The man’s eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles, and the headmaster tried to appear grandfatherly to poor little Harry Potter.

Make no mistake. Harry knew who had left him on his relative’s doorstep that night, and he wasn’t the forgiving sort.

It didn’t matter what the man wanted now, because Harry would never be able to trust him, nor take him at face-value.

While he didn’t have a terrible time at the Dursley’s – on the contrary, it was quite pleasing in the past couple of years – that didn’t mean that he had a great time there. Especially not before he discovered how to wield his power for himself.

“Hello, my boy,” Dumbledore greeted.

“Headmaster,” Harry greeted, lowering his head like the slightly meek Hufflepuff that he came across as. He didn’t bother to let anything like admiration or awe leak into his expression, playing the muggle-raised Hufflepuff to perfection.

Inwardly was a different story altogether. He had to fight down the curl of disgust to his lips at the casual use of an endearment from the man, as if he would be that easy to sway.

It was utterly appalling.

When Harry entered the wizarding world, he’d expected to be wowed at every turn, but he found that people were still people in the end. And here, there was another person with delusions of grandeur.

Albus Dumbledore was a manipulator through and through, Harry could just tell. Good or bad, that didn’t matter. No one controlled Harry Potter. _No one._

Dumbledore relaxed at how malleable the boy seemed. He was the perfect picture of humbleness and goodwill like the muggleborns who stepped through Hogwarts’ doors.

He was nothing like Tom Riddle, as he had suspected.

While he heard about the various glowing reports from the professors under his employ – besides Severus, of course, but then again Severus would never say anything good about a student – and Dumbledore had been terrified that the boy would turn out like a carbon copy of Tom Riddle, but he was anything but.

He was the perfect Hufflepuff, and that should have sparked some sort of suspicion in Dumbledore’s mind about the supposed beacon of light that Harry was supposed to be, but so ingrained he was in his delusions that the man never once suspected anything of the sort.

So lost the headmaster was in his grandfatherly façade that he never noticed the smirk on Harry’s face.

While most of the portraits missed it, one of them did not. However, he did not call the boy out, instead looking at him appraisingly.

By the time Dumbledore finally let Harry go, the boy was this close to finding a way to spike the damn old man’s lemon drops with poison to let him die slowly.

He was sure he’d be able to do it over a period of time without him realizing what was wrong with him.

With the way the wizard ate them every couple of minutes like he had an everlasting amount of them, whatever poison he willingly ingested would be a step closer to one less person annoying Harry.

He didn’t know what the other man wanted, trying to portray himself as a grandfather to Harry. There had to be an ulterior motive, and he clearly wasn’t calling others out to sink his hooks into… but what?

Harry’s eyes glinted coldly.

It mattered not. If the man kept trying to control Harry, he would have no qualms about doing away with him.

After all, the man was rather old… it would be easy for almost everyone to believe that he’d passed away quietly in his sleep.

The man had been through _so much_ , after all. Losing his loved ones, fighting in the war… surely it would all take its toll on the man?

Draco and Ron were waiting for Harry inside the Hufflepuff common room, slightly worried though they didn’t know why.

Why was it that the headmaster had called Harry and only Harry to him?

If that didn’t speak of an ulterior motive, then Draco’s pureblood training to go into Slytherin had been useless.

Ron had been for the most part, oblivious until he saw how worried Draco was.

While he didn’t think that it was anything as big as the other Hufflepuff made it out to be, he couldn’t deny that the more time passed, the more he felt his worries creep up on him.

Draco hid his relief when he saw Harry enter the common room.

“Let’s go up to our dorms.”

Heading up, Draco started casting spells to prevent any eavesdroppers.

Ron’s eyebrows shot up. “When’d you manage to learn all that? We’ve only been here for two days!”

Draco huffed. “Honestly, Weasley, it’s like you’ve never practiced magic at home before you came to Hogwarts.”

“You practiced magic _before_ Hogwarts??”

Draco and Ron looked at each other with visible confusion, forgetting about the reason why they’d re-entered their dorm rooms in the first place.

Harry was all too happy to read his book while they communicated.

“Of course I’ve practiced magic before Hogwarts! What if you fall behind during classes? How else are you expected to maintain your grades?”

“How would I practice without a wand?” Ron asked, baffled. “Besides, don’t wands have the trace on them? The Ministry would know!”

Draco made a disgusted sound. “Obviously, you use a wand that doesn’t belong to you! Or to your parents! At the very least, you have to practice the pronunciation and wand movements, don’t you?!”

Ron still looked gobsmacked. “But my parents told me that the Ministry would be able to know.”

“Of course not!” Draco refuted heatedly, his face darkening when he thought about how behind the other boy be in his schoolwork. It was like he’d never cracked open his books before entering Hogwarts. “Since you live in a wizarding family, the ministry’s wards register that there’s magic going on, true, but they’d never be able to tell whether or not the person using magic was underage or not!”

Draco turned around with a fierce look on his face. “Harry, tell him!”

Harry looked up from his book. “Tell him what?”

Draco looked at him with exasperation. “Tell him how I’m right, obviously!”

Harry shut his book, looking at them calmly. “Draco, Ron, you may not know this, but I was raised by muggles.”

Draco looked aghast, then he looked like he was about to faint. “Muggles!” he muttered under his breath.

Harry pretended he didn’t hear him. “That means that there’s still many things about the wizarding world that may seem like common sense to you but are new to me. Which is why I make it a point to read up, and why I’m always seen with a book in my hand.”

Ron and Draco looked at the book that was conveniently in Harry’s hand and nodded understandingly, their eyes filling with admiration.

Harry hid a smirk. So easy.

Ron eyed Harry’s book contemplatively. “So… Can you help me learn?” he directed to both Draco and Harry. For the first time in a long time, his budding passion for learning started to be rekindled.

This time, Harry did smirk. “You only need ask,” he said smoothly.

Draco sniffed. “So long as you read the material first before asking.”

“Sweet,” Ron said with a grin.

Draco turned to Harry. “Anyway, confess. Now,” Draco demanded.

Harry’s eyes darkened, and he stared directly into Draco’s grey eyes. “First of all,” Harry said silkily, “Do not _ever_ demand things of me.” Harry’s magic started to rise and fill the room, and the feeling of it was so intense and overwhelming that the two other boys in the room all but choked on his magic, not used to it.

Draco paled, shivering. This was the first time that he’d felt such powerful and intensely concentrated magic coming from someone, and while it filled him with both terror and shock, there was a part of him that felt awe and worship.

Something in him purred at the feeling of Harry’s magic against his own.

Ron, on the other hand, felt completely light-headed. He felt as if he was drowning under Harry’s thick, overpowering magic. His magic core resisted against Harry’s magic, leaving him feeling as if he couldn’t breathe.

Unbeknownst to him, the light magic in his core was slowly flickering, being seduced over to the dark side.

Harry’s brows raised when he realized what was happening to Ron’s core, and something in him burned with curiosity about whether or not he would be able to convert someone to the dark side.

Then, as sudden as it appeared, it disappeared.

Ron and Draco collapsed to the floor, panting for different reasons.

Harry’s magic was like a siren’s call, and they were its unwitting thralls.

“Now, what is it that you want to know?” Harry said like nothing happened.

Ron let out a startled laugh. “Blood hell mate,” he said, his tone disbelieving.

Draco righted himself, brushing off imaginary lint on his robes. “We just wanted to know whether or not that meddling old man did anything to you. If he did, there will be hell to pay.”

Somehow, the blond felt himself feeling right at home here. Even though he had been technically threatened by what Harry just did, he didn’t see anything wrong with it.

Ron, on the other hand, wasn’t so accepting. “Are you really just going to let it pass like that-”

“Ron,” Draco said sharply, silencing the redhead. “I’ve already chosen my loyalty, and it’s to Harry. I even came into Hufflepuff with the two of you not because its expected of me, but because I _chose_ to. I went against my father and everything I’ve been taught because I _chose_ to do so.”

Ron fell silent. The depths of Draco’s loyalty to Harry was startling to him, but… he could see how Harry could inspire such loyalty within someone.

“Okay,” Ron said. “Okay. Then, as long as you never betray me, I will never betray you,” he swore.

Slowly, Harry’s lips curled into a deep smile.

“Very well. I accept. The two of you belong to me.”

Harry could hardly believe how well it worked out. They weren’t even a week into school yet, but he’d already managed to acquire two people loyal to him. This was fantastic.

It seemed like his magic was more powerful than he thought. This bode well.

“Now, let’s go for our flying lesson.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really enjoying writing this so far^^
> 
> Comments keep the author alive!


	9. Chapter 9

Harry watched their defence against the dark arts professor across the Great Hall.

Out of everyone in Hogwarts, it was actually this man that intrigued him the most.

 _Professor Quirrell’s_ stutter was fake, that much he could easily tell. Though his jumpiness wasn’t. And wasn’t that just interesting?

But of course, Harry wasn’t interested in those mundane things. What interested him more was the fact that the man seemed to have two cores of sorts.

Everyone had a single core that ranged from either dark to light, as well as the greys.

But this _professor_ had two. One was more faded than the other and seemed to be clinging onto his normal core.

The other one seemed almost to be like a parasite living off the professor’s core.

However, it did seem like he was the only one who could see as such, and wasn’t that just _interesting_?

The professor’s core was dark, but it wasn’t particularly powerful. On the other hand, the… _parasite_ … was deliciously dark, if a little weak and fractured. It practically reeked of the darkness, and Harry being Harry had a rather hard time restraining his curiosity to touch and prod at that pretty core.

The only reason why he held himself back was because he had someone else to play with for the time being. That person being their resident potions professor, of course, but that was beside the point.

There also seemed to be a link between Harry and the parasitic core, and that was saying something. He rather suspected that the parasitic core wasn’t so much a parasite but rather another _person_ of sorts.

The link was even more prominent than the one he had with their dear potions professor.

However, there was only so long he could continue to watch in interest. Eventually, Harry turned his eyes back to their _dear_ potions professor.

The man appeared almost as if he was going to snap any day now. Harry supposed that even the most resilient man would snap eventually after everything Harry did to them.

He’d taken to playing with the man at the times when the man had no choice but to force himself to use his mask to conceal what he was really feeling inside.

The more Harry played with him, the more the man seemed to strain and snap, and Harry could practically _taste_ victory in the air. He’d be able to break that façade soon.

Green eyes met black eyes across the hall, and Harry wondered if he was imagining the slight flinch in the man’s expression before it smoothened over impressively.

Draco looked at their interaction curiously, raising a brow. After these two months, he’d noticed a bit of a strange air between his Godfather and Harry, but since neither were saying anything of the sort to him, he couldn’t bring himself to meddle.

Rather than being worried about Harry, he was more worried about his Godfather.

The man seemed more on edge than he’d ever seen him, and he just knew that it had nothing to do with teaching like he claimed.

While the man was acerbic at the best of times, he also wasn’t as wound up like this.

Draco knew it had something to do with Harry, but he didn’t know what exactly.

At this moment, Harry purred as he sent his magic through the little link that he’d discovered – something that he suspected was due to an oath of sorts – and watched the man’s hand flinch.

Instantly, the man’s impassive mask slammed down, and he abruptly stood up, sweeping out of the Great Hall without any warning.

The rest of the professors that had been peacefully chatting and eating looked at him with surprise, but eventually came to the conclusion that it had something to do with potions. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, after all.

Immediately after Severus left, Harry also stood up gracefully, having had the forethought to finish his food before so that there weren’t any questions asked.

Draco looked worriedly in Severus’ direction, then at Harry, but he didn’t say anything.

Something in Harry purred at the show of loyalty to _him_ even over the blond’s Godfather.

Ron paused with his mouth stuffed, almost choking as he tried to finish swallowing to speak. “Where are you going, mate?”

“I’m going to take a walk around the school grounds for some exercise,” Harry excused himself.

Ron nodded. That was code for Harry speak of wanting to be alone for a bit.

He hadn’t understood it at first, but then Draco pulled him aside one day to explain that some people were rather more introverted than others, and they needed ‘alone time’ to recharge since it was exhausting being around people all the time.

Of course, Harry wasn’t doing anything of the sort. At least, not today.

Harry left the Great Hall, only to spot the familiar dark figure that was Severus Snape standing there.

“Mr. Potter,” Severus said, his tone clipped. “I would like a word.”

Harry tilted his head and smiled almost innocently. “Of course, professor.”

Had Severus been anyone else, he would have fallen for it, but it remained that he was the one who had been under the child’s thrall for the past two months.

Severus led the boy to his quarters, which caused Harry to raise an eyebrow, but the man would hardly have this conversation under watchful eyes or ears.

Discretion was something that Severus understood very well, and in a school like this where there were portraits reporting everything to the headmaster, it was better safe than sorry.

The moment they were inside Severus’ quarters, with the door securely shut and the floo turned off, the dark man immediately dropped to his knees, his head bowed low.

Harry looked at the man curiously. “Yes, professor?” Harry asked with a smirk on his face.

Severus took a shaky breath. Even now, he could feel the caress of the Harry Potter’s magic across his skin, and he was practically going mad from the seductive allure of dark magic that he was being pumped full of.

It made him feel like he was drowning and at the same time _living_ , and it was even more heady than when the Dark Lord had been in his prime.

Severus would be a fool not to realize that the boy was well on his way to becoming a Dark Lord. If he wasn’t one already, that was. A _proper_ Dark Lord – one chosen by magic Herself – not one that had been self-proclaimed like he how suspected the former Dark Lord was.

He originally had suspicions after that disastrous first potions lesson with the first year Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, but nothing concrete.

The second potions lesson, Severus had been tensed throughout it, but when nothing happened, he reluctantly relaxed.

Of course, then, that night in the Great Hall, he had been caressed by that maddening magic again, and he couldn’t escape there and then because Albus _fucking_ Dumbledore insisted on making small talk throughout dinner.

The various things adding up over the next month led Severus to one conclusion: Harry Potter was in no way the Light wizard that everyone expected him to be.

The conclusion he came to left him dazed and unsure of himself for the first time in years.

It all led up to this moment here, where Severus was kneeling before the newest Dark Lord, all but proclaiming his servitude and loyalty.

Harry touched Severus’ face, and the man shuddered at the feeling of his magic, his eyes going a bit glazed at the proximity of the intoxicating magic even as the rest of him remained impassive.

The child – no, the Dark Lord in front of him was so different from the person that he portrayed himself to be.

Outside, he was the perfect Hufflepuff. With loyalty above all else, and friends with everyone in his House.

He’d even managed to bring a Weasley and Heir Malfoy into Hufflepuff with him. If that didn’t speak for how Light he was, what did?

But of course, they were all wrong, and the figure that he painted how sent shivers up Severus’ spine.

He was once again reminded of the late Dark Lord, but the feeling he got from Harry Potter was so much more intense and awe-inspiring that Severus was half-drunk on it in proximity alone.

Especially now that the boy’s magic encompassed his quarters.

“My Lord,” Severus said carefully, making sure not to slur even though he was sure that a lesser man might have. “I wish to swear loyalty to you.”

“Oh?” Harry purred, his green eyes glinting dangerously. “And what makes you so sure that I want you?”

Severus tensed a little, but it didn’t show at all. He bowed his head again, not saying anything else.

The choice was in Harry’s hands now.

“And?” Harry smirked, stroking the man’s silky hair. “How does my magic affect you?”

Severus briefly shut his eyes as he suddenly had an idea what Harry Potter wanted from him. Why he always played with him in the most public places.

Then, he opened his mouth again, and when he saw Harry’s grin, he knew that he was right.

Harry purred at man’s mask shattering before his eyes, satisfaction coursing through him at having broken something – anything.

Severus was indeed drunk and addicted to his magic, and Harry half suspected that if the man hadn’t been Dark before this, he would have thoroughly fallen by now.

“So, you belong to me and only me?” Harry whispered, allowing his magic to run through the man’s core.

Severus shuddered again. “Yes,” he whispered.

There wasn’t a single part of him that rebelled against his words. For all that he had two ‘masters’ before this, Harry James Potter was the only one that he could see himself serving right now.

“Very good,” Harry purred.


	10. Chapter 10

The night of Halloween, or rather, known as Samhain in the wizarding world, Harry felt it.

Lady Magic was stirring in the air, and the boundary between the dead and the living was the thinnest it would ever be.

It was a day where the dead and the living could interact, and magic was charged in the air.

Something was going to happen.

Magic had whispered it to him, and to Harry, it was like a current on his skin. As it was on every special day, Harry was left almost breathless with anticipation.

Today was the night that his parents had died, the night that the supposedly Lord Voldemort was defeated, and it was celebrated with a feast.

Harry had never known his parents – and he never would – it wasn’t like he particularly mourned their death.

But sometimes, he wondered whether or not he would have turned out so… _different_ from everyone else. But then, Harry supposed, they could also have been just like him.

The thought made him smirk.

A scan across the Great Hall, and a wandering eye told him that one professor was missing from the table.

Professor Quirrell.

And wasn’t that just suspicious?

With what he heard about the supposed curse on the defence against the dark art’s position, was it any surprise that whatever was going to happen tonight had to do with their _dear_ professor?

Harry made eye contact with Severus, but the man shook his head ever so slightly when Harry tilted his head at Quirrell’s missing person.

Across him, Ron was stuffing his face, much to Draco’s disgust.

“Ron, can you not eat like a civilised human being? You may be a blood traitor, but you’re a pureblood!”

Ron rolled his eyes, but obligingly slowed down the rate at which he ate.

Draco continued to rant. “Honestly, it’s like you’ve never had etiquette lessons in your entire life.” There was a very pregnant pause, and Ron looked away from Draco’s direction.

The indignation on Draco’s face slowly morphed into pure horror. “You haven’t, had you?”

Draco looked this close to tearing his hair out. There was a strangled sound that he made that Ron and Harry very politely didn’t mention.

“No!” the blond whispered to himself, aghast. “What did I expect, really? You didn’t even take a look at the schoolwork before Hogwarts started!”

Ron made an offended sound. “What does it matter?” He was a little pissed that his family was called a blood traitor family by Draco.

Draco also seemed to catch the glares from the usually happy Hufflepuffs around him, and he shrunk a little.

“Sorry,” he said clearly, and the bunch of Hufflepuffs that had been glaring at him looked away, placated.

And wasn’t that a trip on its own?

Draco couldn’t get over that he was actually being forgiven for the slip of his tongue just by using the words ‘sorry’. No wonder Harry said he could be a true Slytherin in Hufflepuff by using it to his advantage.

All of the people he consorted with – of which, all of them ended up in Slytherin – he knew better than to expect to be forgiven with just a few words.

It was why, before meeting Harry and Ron, he never once muttered the words ‘I’m sorry’ to anyone.

Now, though, just this one word gave him so much leeway. As long as he could properly use his expression to his advantage, that was.

Draco smacked Ron’s hand that had snuck out to grab a loaf of bread. “Weasley,” he hissed.

“Malfoy,” Ron hissed back. But there was an edge of humour at the corner of his eyes, whereas Draco was being completely serious.

Draco huffed and moved nearer to Ron. “Look here. I’ll teach you, so you better learn it!”

Leaving Ron to Draco, Harry instead turned his attention to things that deserved his attention more.

The magic in the air was reaching a crescendo, and unbeknownst to everyone else, Harry’s eyes glowed as magic sung.

Harry took in a deep breath as the magic-charged air filled his lungs.

As always, whenever it reached his point, Harry felt completely and utterly _alive_ in a way that he would never feel on an ordinary day.

Magic flooded through his veins, and it wound tightly under skin. It felt like sparks, it felt like a low sear of fire throughout his body.

Harry wondered, as he always did, whether or not this was what people felt like when they got high, so to speak.

At this moment, Harry could practically feel the curl of anticipation in the magic under his skin, and sure enough, the doors to the Great Hall burst open amidst the celebratory atmosphere, causing some students to jump in shock.

The doors admitted Professor Quirrell into the hall, and he was running in, tripping over his own feet.

There was a look of abject terror on his face, as if he was being chased by someone.

Had Harry been anyone else, there would have been a big grin on his face, but as it was, Harry’s eyes just glowed more than usual, and there was a little smile on his face.

He had to force himself not to smile when everyone else’s expressions changed to confusion and shock.

“Troll in the dungeons!” Professor Quirrell shouted, and Harry couldn’t have hidden the slow curl to his smile if he tried.

If there was any proof needed that Quirrell’s stutter was fake, it was here and now.

Rather than fear, Harry could tell that the man was excited. And so was his parasite. There was a slow, burning satisfaction that rippled through the core, and despite himself, Harry found his eyes drawn to the man.

The chaos that exploded in the Great Hall was something that helped hide his sudden interest. Helped to hide the sudden onslaught of delight that rippled through Harry’s body.

Taking a breath, and wiping the smile from his lips, Harry looked at Ron and Draco, only to find that they were already looking at him.

Well, nothing they’d probably already not seen.

You didn’t live in the same dorm as someone else without them finding out about what your personality was.

It didn’t matter how much you tried to hide it. A person couldn’t keep up their mask for that long, even if Harry was a genius in his own right.

But still, Ron and Draco were still following him, which made him wonder whether or not they actually did have the necessary Hufflepuff characteristics for them to be so loyal.

Well, it was all the better for him, of course.

Dumbledore clanged a goblet with a spoon, calling for order. “Order, order,” the man said, “prefects, take your House back to the common room!”

Slowly, the Great Hall descended into a silence so stifling that some people found it hard to breathe.

Nervous fear bled into the air, and Harry almost found himself unable to breathe, but for a different reason than everyone else.

The nervous anticipation in the air was like a sweet drug to him, with how it spiked in the air.

Harry wasn’t used to feeling emotions for anyone outside of himself, though he did consider his followers ‘his’, and thus there were some lesser emotions that were extended to them as well.

However, when so many people felt the same thing in a confined space like this, it was enough for even Harry to feel it through the magic laced in the air. With them unconsciously leaking magic from their bodies due to fear, it was such a heady thing that it took all of Harry’s considerable willpower for him not to act out.

To be honest, self-control wasn’t quite part of Harry’s repertoire. He just never saw much of a need to.

But there was something holding him back.

Across the hall, there was a cry of, ‘Hermione Granger is missing!’ and the hall once again exploded into an uproar.

Harry licked his lips as the upper years gathered them up, hushing and reassuring the lower years.

The Slytherins quickly settled their House in the Great Hall.

Though Dumbledore didn’t mention anything about their House, they weren’t fools. No one was willing to chance coming across the troll upon going back down to their common room.

Ravenclaw departed first, quickly clearing out in an orderly manner though they looked worried.

Gryffindor was next, but not without many of them blustering and pasting brave expressions on their faces.

The Hufflepuff prefects moved quickly, herding their House back to their common room.

It took more than half an hour for everyone to get settled down, reassured that the professors would take care of the troll.

Seeing that there was no sense in waiting up, the prefects sent them to their bed.

No one was in much of a mood to do anything besides rest, so almost everyone went to sleep soon.

Harry, on the other hand… well.

He was going out to meet a certain someone.

Slipping out from the common room, Harry’s footsteps were soundless as he followed the call of Lady Magic.


	11. Chapter 11

Lady Magic led Harry down the dimly lit hallways, and there wasn’t a single soul that was out this late at night.

He heard nothing but the faintest whispers from his Lady, leading him to a place that he did not know.

Harry walked through the hallways, finding himself descending deeper down into the dungeons.

It was in the middle of the night, and even the teachers had gone to bed.

Lady Magic’s call to him was something that Harry didn’t even consider resisting. Everything he had now was due to his Lady, and her magic was intoxicating.

Lady Magic ruled above everything else, and she made the air sing and dance. Without her, Harry would have been trampled under his relatives’ feet, a servant at their beck and call.

Harry shuddered to think about being a normal little abused boy. He would have been eating out of Dumbledore’s old, wrinkly hands without a single thought.

He could not imagine being anything other than what he was right now. As he was, he was right. He was strong.

Of course, in the eyes of the normal sheep of the Wizarding World, Harry was abnormal. Strange. He went against their normal perception, even for those that were considered Dark.

He knew that.

But this was who Lady Magic had allowed him to be, and it was more natural to him than it was to live and breathe.

Suddenly, he felt his Lady’s call over him wane, which let him know that he was at the correct place.

Sure enough, he found a figure slowly walking forward in the relative dimness of the hallways.

He could feel the familiar link between the two of them, and the sweet darkness that emanated from both the professor and the parasite he carried with him.

Harry breathed in, and the magic that filled his lungs tasted so much sweeter. He wondered if it was because his Lady’s influence could be felt much more strongly tonight, likewise allowing him more freedom in his affairs.

Professor Quirrell’s figure was unsteadily moving forward, and there was a sluggishness to him that was evident at first glance.

Harry looked at him, and he wondered.

Why had his Lady brought him here?

Why was he to meet his professor in the middle of the night?

Curiosity ate at Harry, and he soon felt his interest rise. Even more than before.

Now, it was not just mere curiosity towards him. Unbeknownst to the wizard, there was now a faintly possessive quality to his thoughts that had not been there before.

Before he could say anything, he saw the professor’s hand land unsteadily on the wall as he stumbled.

He could feel the pulse of annoyance from the parasite even from far away.

Even before Harry registered what he was doing, a chuckle spilled out from his lips.

Startled, the professor spun around, and on his face, there was a harsh expression before it smoothened out a little.

However, Harry wasn’t blind. He had seen it as clear as day.

He already knew that there was more to the professor than met the eye, but having it confirmed in such a manner made him excited.

After all, his curiosity was one of the few things that led to an increase in his own emotions. Just like whenever his conjectures were proved right.

And right now, both of those things were achieved.

“Mr. Potter,” the professor said leadingly, “what are you doing out so late at night? I’m afraid I have to give you detention.”

A slow, dark smile spread on Harry’s face, and the appearance of it stunned Quirrell more than anything else.

“Really, professor?”

Professor Quirrell looked confused. “What do you mean, Mr. Potter? I am a professor, and you are a student. Are you trying to refute me?”

Harry’s green eyes glittered under the faint light of the torching, and his dark smile spread even more.

Looking at him like this, he did not appear like a normal eleven-year-old at all. Instead, he appeared a lot more mature. It almost didn’t appear as if he was precocious, but instead, that he had a lot more experience that made him like this.

Of course, it was a false perception.

Harry was perfectly aware of how he came across when he wasn’t hiding his real self.

“Professor, what happened to your stutter?”

Instantly, Quirrell was stunned, and his face changed a few times when he realized that being caught off guard had made him drop the stutter that was supposed to be a part of his character.

Suddenly, Voldemort spoke in a strange, hissing-like tone. “You fool! You are unable to even fool a child!”

Quirrell flinched before he looked around wildly. “Master –”

There was another hiss in the air, and Harry rapidly connected the dots before he even needed to think much about it.

After all, this could also be considered another type of fate. His Lady had led him here, to meet him, and for the first time in Harry’s life, curiosity towards a person, and not their actions, had been born inside him.

“Reveal me,” Voldemort told Quirrell.

Quirrell turned around and carefully unwrapped the back of his turban, revealing Voldemort’s squished, deformed face.

Harry stared at it with abject curiosity. So, this was the parasite that he’d been staring at for the past two months. It was actually Voldemort this entire time.

The parasite’s magic was wonderfully dark, and it called out so to Harry. Every time he neared it, it felt like it was crooning towards him.

Voldemort’s mouth opened, and he was about to say something when Harry couldn’t control his curiosity anymore.

Now that he knew it was actually Voldemort who had been the parasite all along, he no longer had to worry about alerting Quirrell about his magic.

Instantly, the sheer darkness of Harry’s magic washed over Voldemort, and the spirit stopped talking, shocked.

The invasive darkness that penetrated through him was akin to his magic back when he had been in his prime, which nearly drove him mad.

How could this _child_ have such prowess over his magic?

“Who are you? What have you done to Potter?”

How could a Light child have such a look on his face? The Dark Lord couldn’t believe it. The child was a Hufflepuff. He was the epitome of a Light wizard!

Harry’s fingers twitched, and he didn’t stop himself from reaching out and placing an almost reverent palm on the Dark Lord’s face.

His eyes lit up, and they were almost fanatically hungry, stunning Voldemort.

“Your magic… it’s so pretty,” Harry crooned. This was the closest he could get to it, but the magic that he longed to run his fingers through were deep within Quirrell’s body, displeasing him.

He even had the thought of digging his fingers deeply into the man’s body just so that he could touch Voldemort’s magic core.

It was a heady magic that was close to the true darkness that he adored, but it was a lot weaker than he thought.

However, the pure quality of it made up for the apparent shortcomings.

Voldemort’s magic was even more delicious than Severus’, or Draco’s father’s magic.

“Who _are_ you?” Voldemort snarled out. He had no way to escape the addictive feeling of Harry’s magic, and he didn’t like not being in control.

Harry didn’t say anything, instead just increasing the touch of his magic over Voldemort’s core.

By now, Voldemort had already tried everything to break out from Harry’s hold, and everything had failed. The blasted boy was doing something to him that was unacceptable. He was taking advantage of the Dark Lord’s weakened state, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Quirrell!” Voldemort barked.

As if breaking out of a trance, Quirrell jolted, and he immediately dashed down the corridor with full strength.

Behind them, Harry’s delighted laugh echoed down the hallway.

Despite himself, something inside the Dark Lord shuddered.

The feel of that child’s magic…


	12. Chapter 12

Harry stood at the top of the Astronomy Tower and whistled.

One long whistle rang out from the empty Astronomy Tower. The whistle was filled to the brim with pure magic, and it would attract something suitable to him.

The whistle rang loudly in the night sky, and he would not have done something like this had there been more students around.

A few birds scattered from the sound of the whistle, feeling instinctively scared of the magic.

Since it was the holidays, and both Ron and Draco had gone back, along with the majority of Hogwarts students, Harry was perfectly content to wait here for a response.

It was something that he’d been meaning to try for a while, and this was the perfect opportunity to try it out.

He waited for more than ten minutes before he saw a creature approach. It was a beautiful, snowy owl. Though the owl was white, it perfectly blended into the surroundings, gliding through the air with poise and grace.

This was a hunter that knew how to use its body to its advantage.

Harry raised a brow in amusement.

He, who had such dark magic that it was acknowledged by Lady Magic herself, was actually paired with a snowy white owl like this? Irony at its finest, indeed.

Harry held out his hand, and the owl landed on his arm, smartly making sure not to dig her talons in.

Harry used the back of his hand to smoothen the owl’s soft feathers. “Hedwig,” he said simply, and the owl hooted.

She nipped his fingers a little, drawing blood. Like that, the bond between the two snapped into place. Familiar and master bond existed where there had been nothing before. She hopped over to his shoulder, preening his hair.

Harry brought her in from the frigid wind outside and handed a few parcels to her. Walking back to the window, he threw his hand out, and she soared out like the graceful predator that she was.

It was the eve before Yule, and Hedwig would deliver his necessary presents to upkeep his relationships.

They were to the people that weren’t in Hogwarts for Yule. On the other hand, for their resident Dark Lord in the castle, he had a surprise for him.

Just for fun, of course.

Since the man kept avoiding him whenever he tried to get near, Harry felt a little… annoyed.

And Yule was a time to be charitable, so why not?

With a dark smirk on his face, Harry made his way down the Astronomy Tower. It was already late into the night, and the students who had chosen to stay back in Hogwarts were definitely in bed by now.

Of course, that didn’t apply to the professors who were obligated to stay back to look after the children, but most of them didn’t patrol at night. Depending on who was on duty that night, there would only be one professor patrolling, with the addition to Filch.

Harry’s footsteps were silent as he ghosted through the hallways, finally arriving before the Dark Lord’s current residence.

Inside the warm room, Voldemort stirred. For some reason, he had a bad feeling.

At this moment, there was a knock that resounded about the room, confusing Quirrell.

The professor got up from his armchair and placed the book he had aside, walking towards the portrait door.

There was the briefest pause in Voldemort’s thoughts as he felt a feeling akin to someone walking upon his grave, chilling him.

“Stop–”

But it was too late. Before Voldemort could control Quirrell’s body, the portrait had already swung the door open, showing Harry’s sweetly smiling face.

However, Voldemort, who was able to see through Quirrell’s eyes, felt a chill go through him. It was stronger this time.

So, this was the bad feeling that his instincts had tried to warn him about.

However, he was already here.

And Dark Lords did not run.

“What do you want, Potter?” Voldemort asked in a dark tone. Using Quirrell’s body, the atmosphere that surrounded the man instantly changed, turning to something far more oppressive.

Only, the thing that had sent countless followers to their knees failed to have any effect on one Harry Potter.

Harry strolled in, looking as casual as could be. He was the picture-perfect representation of wide-eyed innocence, and Voldemort didn’t buy it one bit.

He knew a mask when he saw one – granted, it was a good mask, but a mask nonetheless. However, had the Dark Lord not seen the sheer potency to the brat’s magic on Samhain, he would have fallen for it.

And the thought galled him.

Harry waited very politely for the man to invite him to sit down, before deciding to just sit down anyway.

The Dark Lord, who had just opened his mouth, felt his forehead pulse in annoyance.

“What do you want?” the Dark Lord ground out again. His tone was less than friendly.

Harry tilted his head to the side, not saying anything as he just smiled at the man. “Why, professor, after avoiding me for more than a month, you’re not avoiding me anymore?”

The smile that was curled on the child’s lips was absolutely infuriating, and Voldemort felt a strong urge to Crucio him, yet he could not.

“Dark Lords do not run,” he said, and for some reason, to his ears, it sounded a little petulant.

He shook the thought away.

Furious, he seethed. He sat himself down on the sofa again, narrowing his eyes at the prophecy child who seemed so different from his expectations.

Even now, there was something deep inside him that was screaming at him to leave the vicinity of the child, but he could not afford to show weakness. Especially not to his nemesis, whom he needed to strike fear into.

His skin continued to prickle whenever whatever stray tendril of Potter’s magic brushed against him ‘accidentally’, and it galled him to know that he was unable to fight off the influence of the magic.

Now that he was near it, though his mind was screaming at him to leave, his magic didn’t want to do anything of the sort.

Voldemort bared his teeth in Quirrell’s body, and Harry’s answering smirk was just as infuriating as ever.

“Then, why have you been… tactically retreating in the opposite direction whenever I so much as approach you for a question?” Harry asked instead.

The smile on Harry’s face was reminiscent of a mouse cornering a mouse as it played with it, and Voldemort did not like the comparison his mind gave him at all.

His fingers twitched as if itching to use the wand held in Quirrell’s hand, but he didn’t make a move.

“Just get to the point and get out, brat!”

“But… I’m here to give you your Yule present,” Harry said in a faux sad tone.

It caused Voldemort’s hair to rise. This could not be anything good.

But he was unable to show any weakness with something so seemingly innocent. Of course, neither the Dark Lord nor Harry thought that way. It only appeared innocent on the surface.

Harry got up from the sofa, causing Voldemort to tense minutely, his eyes wary. While the boy did not feel hostile, there were things worse than that…

Sure enough, Harry brushed the back of his fingers across Voldemort’s face, and the Dark Lord’s eyes flickered for an unknown reason.

It was a light brush, but the Dark Lord felt it like a heavy blow to his psyche. When had he ever been touched in such an impudent way before?!

Without him realizing it, the man had tensed up. Potter was too unpredictable, and even Voldemort, with his vast experience, had not met such a person before.

Not to mention, the brat was only eleven years old!

For some reason, his magic kept telling him not to resist, but he was not resigned! How could his magic betray him like this?!

He’d already tried to use his magic a few times, but just having Potter lock his eyes on him, his magic slipped through his fingers like water.

Voldemort smacked Harry’s hand away, his eyes blazing. He was furious. “What did you do?!”

Harry didn’t insist, chuckling darkly. “Nothing,” he said simply. Indeed, he had done nothing to the man that had not followed the course of nature.

By right, Harry’s magic was more potent and sweeter than anyone else who had not been blessed by Lady Magic. It was irresistible to the normal person. And as much as he wished it was not so, the Dark Lord was indeed a normal person.

With the way he was fractured… well, it was even harder for him to resist.

Just a brush of Harry’s magic would have made him compliant had it not been for the man’s strong grip on his mind.

The same, however, could not be said for his magic.

Trying to harm Harry was no good since magic followed certain laws.

Harry smiled darkly, pulling out a stone from the inside of his pocket.

For a brief moment, Voldemort thought that it was the stone that he coveted. The stone that would allow him to reclaim his body. But it was not.

Instead, the stone was a pitch-black colour. It was so black, in fact, that it seemed to suck in light instead of reflecting it.

With glittering green eyes, Harry stepped closer yet again, and Voldemort did not move a single inch.

He tucked the stone into the professor’s pocket, giving him one last smile. It gave him chills.

“Happy Yule,” Harry said in a low, almost purring tone.

Then, Harry left the room so nonchalantly that no one would ever believe what just happened inside.

Voldemort ground his teeth in hatred, anger and indignation. Who did that brat think he was?

The Dark Lord reached into the pocket to pull out the stone, but the moment his fingers brushed it, his eyes slipped shut of its own accord.

This was the pure, haunting feeling of Harry’s magic. Voldemort withdrew his hand like he’d been scalded.

Filled with indignation beyond belief, he rescinded control over to the rightful owner of the body, snarling.

“Quirrell, dispose of that stone for me!”

Quirrell nodded like a broken woodpecker, but the moment his hand went near the stone, it seared him. “Ah!” he screamed.

Voldemort snarled. His servant was useless!

Seething, the Dark Lord took control again and stared at the door with a malevolent expression. He would get his revenge for this as soon as he figured out how to circumvent his magic rebelling against him when Potter was around.


	13. Chapter 13

Voldemort lay awake in the middle of the night while Quirrell was fast asleep. His consciousness didn’t even stir, but Voldemort could not be lulled to sleep, which was making him more irritable than normal.

The damn stone that Potter gave him was bugging him so much. At random moments, the magic would reach out and almost caress him like some sort of –

No matter how he tried to throw it away, the damn stone was acting like some sort of homing device that kept coming for him.

He would have blasted it to pieces, but it was even immune to that.

Potter’s magic yet again reached out to tease him when he was about to drop to sleep, causing him to snarl as he took over the body and sat upright.

It had only been a day since that devil’s spawn had given him the stone, but he couldn’t get rid of it no matter what.

Irritated beyond belief, Voldemort put on the robe hanging by the door and stalked outside.

Perhaps the cool night air would allow him to calm down, and the potency of the magic would fade a bit.

Today was Yule, and even Voldemort was a little more forgiving on this day, but because of Potter’s stone, his mood was worse than ever.

He stalked down the hallways of the castle and drew a little comfort from his home that wasn’t a home.

Hogwarts…

But of course, like fate was playing a trick on him, while he passed by one of the rooms, he felt the familiar magic – magic that he didn’t want to be familiar with at all – even the damn stone that he couldn’t get rid of reached out to him.

Instantly, Voldemort’s brows furrowed, but let it be said that Voldemort never ran away from anything.

Thinking about it, what could the child do to him? He was the great Lord Voldemort. He would not be bested by a child!

So, Lord Voldemort spied on the child that was standing inside the room.

His eyes lit up.

The Mirror of Erised!

Unknowingly, the man’s lips curled up. Very good.

Perhaps the devil spawn would rot away in front of the mirror before long. No one would ever find his body.

And Quirrell had obviously never seen the brat, which meant that he could get away scot free.

Slowly, without making any other sounds, Voldemort backed away.

Yet, alarmingly, the child immediately turned around the moment he was about to make a clean escape.

He didn’t seem as if he was enraptured by the mirror at all, which was a direct contradiction to whatever Voldemort knew about the mirror.

Harry took quick steps forward and grabbed the sleeve of his robe.

Voldemort glared at Harry. “Let go, you insolent child.”

Harry’s lips curled up into a polite smile, and his eyes were positively dangerous. “You’re the one who came to me,” he said sweetly. If it wasn’t for the dark light in his eyes, Voldemort would almost have been fooled.

“I did not come to you.”

“Then, how did you find me in this very large, magical castle?”

“I just walked around wherever my feet took me.”

Harry raised a brow, and it was filled with so much disdain that Voldemort instantly felt his temper rising.

“Really. You have a stone on you that reeks of my magic, and you really believe that?”

Now, Harry’s face took on a slightly mocking tone, and it made Voldemort feel like his blood pressure was rising just by being in his presence.

Voldemort reflexively raised his wand, ready to hex the brat into oblivion, but Harry seemed to know what he was thinking, smirking at him.

“You can’t win in a battle of words, so you’re resorting to violence?”

Screw it. Voldemort very much wanted to get physical with him right now and wring that scrawny neck of his.

Surely if he did it now, this giant pain in the ass would no longer be able to get in his way all the time. The prophecy would end right now, and he would be free.

Dumbledore would try his best to track him down, of that he had no doubt, but if Voldemort killed him here and now and then instantly fled, the man would still take some time before he realized that Harry was dead.

It was the day of Yule, and the brat’s invisibility cloak – that had obviously been ‘gifted’ by Dumbledore, fucked with the man’s various devices that tracked the boy’s life.

It would be a waste of an invisibility cloak, but if he wrapped the body with it while the body cooled, the old man wouldn’t realize until it was too late.

Voldemort’s eyes flashed with murderous light.

Harry smiled prettily, and his eyes went half-lidded.

Voldemort’s pupils immediately blew wide as he felt the brat’s tantalizing magic mix with his again, almost sending him to his knees.

The Dark Lord grit his teeth in annoyance as he fought off the weak feelings that were inspired in him. He couldn’t control his body properly, and for all that he was fighting back the sick pleasure, he couldn’t fight off Harry’s hands as the tiny first year dragged him towards the mirror.

By the time he realized what was happening, his eyes only had time to widen, and he was already staring at the mirror.

Harry peered at the Dark Lord, feeling morbidly curious.

What would the Dark Lord see in the Mirror of Erised? Would he see countless bodies, would he see the death of his arch-nemesis? Would he see Harry’s cooling corpse at his feet, or the world trembling under his fingertips?

Harry was so very curious.

What would the Dark Lord see in the mirror?

It was too bad that he could not see it first-hand, so he had to make do with asking the man.

“What do you see?” Harry asked, keeping his voice low.

“I see…” the man trailed off, his voice not at all there. It was like he was speaking subconsciously.

“I see…”

Harry waited with growing impatience, before he was suddenly alerted by Hogwarts that Dumbledore was making his way to this room.

Harry clicked his tongue, but not before he brushed chilled fingers over the stone that was in Voldemort’s robe pocket.

The stone hummed under his fingertips, like it was welcoming him.

With a smirk, Harry withdrew his hands again, leaving the entranced man in front of the mirror.

He gently shut the door behind him and made his way back to his dorm room leisurely.

-

Dumbledore quickly made his way to the room that held the Mirror of Erised, his heart burning with anticipation.

The young boy should have made his way here already. Being a curious boy, he would no doubt take the cloak out for a spin the moment he received it.

If Dumbledore knew anything, it was innocent teens and preteens like the back of his hand. Manipulating them was as simple as the wave of a wand.

Today would be the day that he found out Harry’s deepest desires. If he knew a person’s desires, he would be that much easier to control.

However, much to his disbelief, instead of finding Harry standing before the mirror, when he cracked the door open, all he found was Professor Quirrell standing before the mirror, looking entranced.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

The suspicious professor – whom Dumbledore suspected was one of Voldemort’s minions – snapped out of it abruptly upon hearing his voice.

Still facing the mirror, Voldemort’s face warped viciously a few times before he reigned himself back in, pasting on Quirrell’s usual cowardly look.

“A-ah… H-h-headmaster…”

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled grandfatherly, looking at Quirrell fondly. “I think it’s time for you to go to sleep, young man.”

As he said that, he walked forward and pulled back the covers over the mirror, covering it from view.

If he got himself caught in the trap again…

As Quirrell left quickly, Dumbledore found himself feeling a bit disheartened.

The boy… had he been here? Or had he not?

He was confused.


	14. Chapter 14

The months flew past without much of note happening. Severus’ reverence towards Harry deepened with each passing day, until the man could no longer recall how it felt being under the Dark Lord’s tyrannical rule.

It was almost soul-freeing, in a way that the man had never felt before.

Of course, he still harboured suspicions towards Quirrell – he suspected that the man was an emissary of the Dark Lord that had previously been hidden.

With the presence of Harry, who was now his Lord, he couldn’t be faulted for coming to the conclusion that the Dark Lord would make a move in this year.

Seeing how the monster had spiralled into insanity over the years left Severus certain of that. The Dark Lord was not dead by any means. He was still alive somewhere, which meant that he was now a threat to his Lord.

Not having a body was sure to have degraded whatever sanity he had left. There had been no movements within the Death Eaters, but that didn’t count for anything.

And Severus… would not let that stand.

It wasn’t only his promise to himself to keep Lily’s son alive and well, but also as a form of the deepest reverence and worship for the boy himself.

Perhaps it was depraved, coming to so depend on the tantalizing feel of his Lord’s magic to keep him from lashing out, but Severus did not care in the slightest.

Occlumency was one thing, but his Lord’s magic was another thing altogether.

Over this past year, Severus had seen his Lord weave – dare he say it – _magic_ over the other first years, both in his house and those outside it.

To the outside, Harry Potter appeared like the perfect Hufflepuff. He made friends everywhere, and he inspired loyalty in all of them.

But none were more fanatic than his own house. He was like the light to them, and they all turned to him however subconsciously.

It made Severus feel a perplexing mixture of emotions – mainly amusement and something like horror.

It seemed to come as naturally as breathing to his Lord. Whether it was his personal charisma, his magic, or a mixture of the two, Severus could hardly see Dumbledore exerting any of his influence over that batch of first years.

Severus’ lip curled a little at the thought. The damn old man had been more and more stressed lately, and he’d been consuming more lemon drops than usual.

It was the artful way that Harry weaved his web, drawing everyone in tightly without letting them go.

Outside of Hufflepuff, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had been drawn in as well, and to a lesser extent, the rest of the houses.

Harry just appeared so _kind_ and _sweet_ that they all tripped over themselves just to help him to something.

Even the teachers had all been drawn in, gushing about how the boy was such an absolute delight.

Severus put his thoughts aside for once as he strode down the hallway. He was to meet his Lord again for their weekly meetup.

As always, Severus would try to convince his Lord that he should not get so close to Quirrell, but he had a feeling that it would fall on deaf ears yet again.

As he drew closer to his quarters, Severus could already feel his heartbeat quickening in anticipation.

It was almost like an addiction at this point, and he was not quite certain that he would be able to survive going off it, which further cemented his loyalty. His Lord served Lady Magic herself, and his magic was his own, but also an extension of Lady Magic.

“Lily,” he said to the painting. There were the faintest twinges in his heart, the wound still there even after so many years, but it was soothed upon knowing that he had sworn loyalty to her son, his Lord.

The painting swung open, admitting him inside, and Severus stepped into his quarters.

The moment his foot passed through the doorway a tremor went through his body as he was caressed with that sinfully dark magic – so dark that it called out to his very soul.

As the door shut behind him, Severus strode forward to see his Lord sitting comfortably on his couch with a book in hand.

Before Harry could say anything, Severus dropped to his knees, his head gently resting on Harry’s knee.

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, and the magic in the room became thicker, causing Severus to shiver. He didn’t even bother hiding any of his reactions from his Lord, wanting transparency in this… relationship of theirs.

A transparency that he was not afforded in his two previous masters.

As they said, third times the charm.

Harry’s magic brushed his core, just as the boy brushed strands of his hair gently.

Something inside Severus relaxed as his masks fell to his feet.

“My Lord,” Severus said, his voice very carefully not slurring. His tone contained the reverence he felt for this small slip of a boy.

His Lord had already told him that he did not need to do as such. He did not need to prove his loyalty every time they met in private, but Severus was more than willing to do so.

Perhaps it was because before the Dark Lord, his previous master, he had to crawl and grovel, kissing the hems of his robes, and in Dumbledore, he had to grovel in another way – subservience to his whims and orders. But in Harry, he did not need to do so. He was not _forced_ to do it. Instead, it came very naturally.

Almost _too_ naturally, but at this point, Severus really wasn’t willing to question it any further. He was tired.

“Severus,” Harry replied, a dark smile hanging on his lips. “I do wonder what it is that has you so up in arms.”

“It’s Quirrell, my Lord,” Severus said, voicing his worries. “He’s been making suspicious movements. Especially in the recent times. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but I am worried about your safety.”

Harry just listened with the same dark smirk on his lips, as if he was enjoying a private joke that no one but himself knew about.

Severus eventually sat up next to Harry on the couch, finished with his reporting.

Harry nodded. “Good. Don’t worry about Quirrell. I know you think he is working for the Dark Lord, but…” The smile on Harry’s lips widened, and there was a spark of possessiveness in those green eyes.

It startled Severus, but it was quickly smoothened down. It seemed like his Lord would have another loyal retainer under him soon enough.

“But…” Harry continued, his hand stroking the book under his fingertips affectionately. “He belongs to me. Or, at least, a part of him definitely belongs to me.”

The words that he spoke were so dark that they almost dripped with it, and it caused goosebumps to form on Severus’ arm. It was sinful. So sinful that Severus knew that if Harry ever asked him to do something with that voice of his, he would do it without any questions asked.

Quirrell would never know what hit him.

Harry laughed, and the magic in the room roiled and thickened, alive.

“He just doesn’t know it yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter for y'all hehe. It wasn't originally supposed to be written from Severus' point of view, but that's just how it turned out.


	15. Chapter 15

Harry threw the pretty, red stone up in the air and caught it absently. For a famous stone like the philosopher’s stone that was coveted in the Wizarding World, that had sure been an easy task.

Heeding Albus Dumbledore’s words about ‘certain death’, he’d managed to find this particular stone hidden inside the Mirror of Erised. Honestly, it was almost insulting. Everything that had been used to clear the trials was something that could be found in the first-year books.

He could feel the damn fool’s magic over the entire setup.

Harry rubbed the stone, feeling the vast amount of magic contained within it. Now, what was Albus Dumbledore doing with a stone like this in a castle full of children? Harry had no doubt that it was part of the man’s chessboard. He had a feeling it had to do with Voldemort being stuck on Quirrell’s head.

Harry walked down the corridor, the various paintings looking at him as he went by but conspicuously silent. Some of their faces carried indulgent looks, causing Harry to frown in annoyance before he put away the faint feelings. No matter. He could work this in his favour as well. Even if it were not achieved by himself.

Drawing nearer to where he felt their resident ‘Dark Lord’s’ magic, Harry felt a smirk forming on his face. Was this not what the soul – that fraction of a soul – yearned for? Sought after? So much so that he had entered into a school full of rowdy children and endured their grating presence for months on end?

“Potter,” came the hissed voice.

Voldemort stood in the corridor, wearing Quirrell’s face. His eyes, however, were not locked on Harry Potter’s face. Instead, his eyes were instantly drawn to the stone that he’d come all the way to Hogwarts for.

Of course, before he could make any move to snatch the stone, he realized that the foolish boy was throwing the stone up and down as if nothing more than a common pebble on the side of the road that had caught his passing fancy.

Logically speaking, nothing would happen to the stone even if it did fall out of the boy’s hands, but in Voldemort’s desperation, he could not bear the thought of the stone striking the ground.

It was the only thing that stopped Voldemort from lunging at the boy like a common hoodlum for the stone.

A dark, teasing smile spreads slowly on Harry’s lips, but it did nothing to stop him from his actions.

“Ah, our resident Dark Lord.” Harry’s words flowed as smooth as silk, dark and caressing.

It made Voldemort feel a wave of irrational anger at the thought of how the boy’s tone was just like the feel of the blasted stone he couldn’t get rid of. Oh, what he would give to strangle the boy, feeling the life drain out of him under his very hands.

Voldemort choked back a snarl when he felt the familiar feeling of the Potter boy’s magic – both from the boy himself and the stone in his pockets.

As always, it caressed his core and sung out to him. Had he been a lesser man, he would have already succumbed to the things it inspired in him, but he was the great Lord He was He was Lord Voldemort. He would not accept being under anyone’s thumb, let alone under the slip of a boy standing before him who had been the cause of his fall in the first place.

“What do you want, Potter?” Voldemort demands instead. He would have to be blind not to see the teasing look on the boy’s face. It made him want to curse it off him.

“Hmm, what do I want indeed,” Harry muses, toying with the stone in his hands. It doesn’t escape his notice that Voldemort was showing all his tells straight away. It made him wonder, almost, if he’d lost all forms of higher capacity thinking with his soul fractured so badly.

Still, his core was delicious, and Harry almost wanted to see it whole again.

The thought seemed to take root in his mind. He filed it away for later.

“Well?” Voldemort demanded when the silence grew too long for his liking. His fingers twitched, grabbing Quirrell’s wand. Unfortunately, he still could not use his magic in Harry damn Potter’s presence.

“You will belong to me for a year,” Harry says sweetly, poison dripping from his tongue. “And you will not disobey me.”

Voldemort instantly flares up, hot rage pressing against him. “Crucio!”

Nothing happens, with the firm grip Harry has over his magic.

Voldemort gave a wordless snarl, spinning on his heels. He didn’t need Potter’s help! He would get that stone for himself.

Harry chuckled darkly, his eyes glinting. “If you don’t agree, then I’ll just destroy this here.”

Let it not be said that Voldemort did something as banal as grinding his teeth, but at this moment, he did so without any hesitation at all.

The urge to strangle the brat was stronger than ever. He took deep breaths to calm himself, much too worked up at this moment.

When Voldemort spun around, Harry Potter had a glint in his eyes that said he knew Voldemort had to agree with him whether he liked it or not.

While not the only possible way for him to regain a body, this was the best and most efficient method for him to do so. If he missed this window of opportunity, it was likely he would never get another one. Magic worked in funny ways sometimes.

The other rituals had consequences that Voldemort would not like to receive if he could help it.

One year. He had already spent more than ten as a wraith.

“Fine,” Voldemort bit out, already regretting agreeing with it the moment the word left his mouth. “One year. But I want an unbreakable vow.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed simply, “then we shall have our third.”

They entered Severus’ quarters, which almost made Voldemort catatonic with rage.

Harry sat down, and Severus dropped to his knees without a second thought, magic happily buzzing as it came into contact with his lord’s.

“He’s yours now, then,” Voldemort bit out.

Harry just smirked. “He’s mine, and he shall remain so if you wish for the stone.” There was a note of possession in Harry’s voice, dark and almost subtle.

The words almost caused Severus’ breath to catch. He carefully placed the feelings aside using his occlumency.

Now Severus would have been alarmed, but now he was just left with caution and wary. This was not Quirrell – not in the way that he knew the man. From the expression of murderous intent on his face, Severus suddenly cottoned on. This was Lord Voldemort.

But even so, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care that he had already outed his true allegiance.

“Severus, be our witness.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Voldemort and Harry clasped hands. Severus placed his wand on top of their hands.

“Will you, Voldemort, consent to belonging to me for the duration of one year in exchange for the philosopher’s stone?”

“I will.” The words could not have been more unwilling.

“And will you obey my orders if they do not cause you grievous harm?”

“I will.”

“And will you swear to release one Severus Snape from your servitude as long as he desires for it to be so?”

There was a pause this time, much longer, and red eyes glared at Harry. This was not in the agreement. But… a follower in addition for the stone was… acceptable.

“I will.”

The three wizards in the room felt the magic snap into place, forming another bond between their magic.

The feel of Harry’s magic in its entirety caused the two fully grown wizards to feel dizzy. It was only now that they realized just how much the eleven-year-old boy had been holding back before.

Harry looked at the dawning horror on Voldemort’s face and laughed, sinuous and dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! Long time no see! Hope I'll be updating more now! ^^


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